


The calm before the storm

by LostBoy626



Series: Endgame FIXIT (Starker) [3]
Category: Iron-Man - Fandom, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Loki Returns, M/M, MalexMale, Mpreg, Multi, Starker, The Avengers are actually big softies, Tony Stark Isn’t Human, What are tags even for?, Who READS THESE, enjoy, i give up. - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2020-12-22 15:28:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 83,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21079079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostBoy626/pseuds/LostBoy626
Summary: Peter shrugged, opening his mouth to respond only to be cut off before he even began by a tiny foot using his belly button as a kicking bag. He grinned. “Did you feel that?”Tony was grinning, too, looking almost maniacal as he pressed a tad bit harder into Peter’s stomach. “Was that him?” He asked, question heavy with awe.“That was him,” Peter confirmed, soft, as his eyes slanted to the man without directly looking at him; taking in the happy lines and bright eyes with lips stretched tightly over teeth. This- this was happiness. In its pure, undiluted form.This is what two earths couldn’t take away from him.The knowledge that whatever the path, whatever he was led to believe or still feels, Tony Stark chose him. And will continue choosing him, always.





	1. You are beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> I AM BACK! And I bring you the third installment of my endgame fix it- the big finale! Although the previous two have been on the shorter side, I have big plans for this last one and intend for it to be a few chapters longer! Stayed tuned for what’s in store, and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts! 
> 
> Slow beginning- but just know it’s building up to some powerful stuff. ;) 
> 
> Much love, 
> 
> Xx 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> *Summary* 
> 
> In the aftermath of being kidnapped, Peter has to find his place in this world while also balancing a new relationship and his surprise pregnancy. Faced with the struggles of telling family and friends, and their reactions, he has to prepare for parenthood while also trying to maintain his position as an Avenger. Which, in all honesty, seems a lot easier said than done with memories of Thanos’ world left to haunt him with the threat of taking it all away. Oh! And Loki is back! 
> 
> (SUMMARIES ARE NOT MY THING)

As it turns out, being emotionally scared by something doesn’t just magically go away or get better despite how adamantly someone tries to forget it. You’ll have your good days, where you’re not haunted by the memories, by the ghosts of your past and the echoes of your name falling from dying lips. You won’t remember the Alien god, or the hell he’d created. And you certainly won’t remember the actual feeling of dying- of being turned into nothing and going through that hell only to wake up in an entirely different hell but all with the same purpose; pain. 

Getting kidnapped must have done something inside of Peter; snapped that elastic band inside his head that was acting as a thin barrier to keep his emotions tethered together and at bay behind the crumbling dam wall he’d known was leaking from the beginning but refused to acknowledge the cracks for the fear of the entire thing bursting. 

Tony has rescued him. Or rather, the god of thunders husband had; who refused to accept any kind of payment or praise Tony had offered during the limited time when he’d been drunk on relief and happiness- forgetting their past for just those scarce moments because yes, Loki was a deviant who had done a lot of bad, but all of that seemed so silly and pale in comparison to the reality that he’d saved Tony’s boy. That was a gift in its entirety- a solvent to completely erase and rebrand a man’s name, his title, and give him a fresh start. 

Of course, it had been forgotten the moment they returned to the tower and Tony was left standing in the kitchen, talking (yelling would be more sufficient of a description but Peter was being favorable to Tony) at Thor- chastising him over his own stupidity and lack of knowledge on the single most powerful being they’d ever come across to this recent date, Thanos aside, managing to be alive and well for years while staying under their radar. 

It had terrified him, Peter had realized when he’d ease dropped three corridors down as he revised everything to Loki, though a little altered to soften the blow to the man’s emotions. He knew if he recited everything Tony said, nothing- not even Thor, would have been able to hold Loki back. 

And that thought terrified him, because he genuinely liked Loki, and was afraid of what he’d have to do to protect his own... person, if it came down to it. 

Tony was terrified of what would happen, what Loki could have possibly brought back with him in his return to earth. Thanos still has orphans splattered throughout the galaxy- children who were drunk on revenge and seeking nothing else while shedding blood in their path and having zero remorse. 

What if Loki was squished beneath their thumb? Caught in their web and convinced to come to earth to finish what their father had started- killing everything and everybody Tony has ever cared about. 

He couldn’t have that, and Thor finally understood why Tony was so... Tony at the moment. 

So shield took Loki into their supervision, not without Thor tagging along, and that had left Tony.... Odd. Odder than usual. Resulting in the man taking refuge in his lab where he’d stayed barricaded for the past week and well- Peter was done. He was tired of being shut out. Of being forgotten and pushed to the back because he’d been the one kidnapped, he’d been the one held captive while listening to hundreds of children cry over their lost childhood. 

It wasn’t fair, and he realized his own nerves were a little fried and frizzled which could explain why he’d spent the past hour planning and rehearsing exactly what he was going to tell his... Tony. 

—-

The thing people nobody tells you about love, Peter thought as the tips of his fingers danced over the swell of his stomach, was that it was hard. So much more so some days than others. You have to fight, and make sacrifices, and push the other to strive and succeed even when you yourself feel like there isn’t the slightest bit of hope left in the world. You have to do good, and be good, for the sole purpose of never letting your partner down. 

And it was clear now, as he stood before a sleep deprived Tony who was obsessing over an odd gadget that sent sparks spritzing out with every wrong touch from his charred fingers, that the man hadn’t received the memo. 

“Come to bed?” Peter begged, for what seemed to be the millionth time in the five minutes since he’s been down here. This wasn’t just a tonight thing, however. It was consistent, extending to an eight day time period and he didn’t see an end in sight for the ridiculous cycle. 

No sleep, obsessive behavior, working himself up over nothing, minimal food consumption, and repeat. He knew he built Tony sturdier; made him more pliable to the harsh world, but he never expected his durable creation to be put to all the wrong uses. Sleep deprivation wasn’t a bother, obviously, but even it caught up to Tony and Peter could see the evidence in the sway of the man’s body as he cursed under his breath. 

“I’m fine,” he argued, an overused reassurance that is a complete lie in the way his raspy voice struggled to express even that simple line. 

Tony moved from his swaying stance before the table and disregarded his previous project in favor of picking up an abandoned metal platelet that belonged to God knows what, and turned it over in his hand before he threw it on the table and huffed. 

“I’m fine-“ he repeated again, seemingly trying to convince himself of this as his bloodshot eyes moved to meet Peter’s, “i’m just- I’m close.”

Close to what, Peter wasn’t sure. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. 

“This,” he said, gesturing around the hazardous lab with numerous random items strewn carelessly across the tables with blinding holographc screens projecting from every available screen, “can wait until tomorrow. Please? Come up to bed with me,” 

Tony hesitated in his next step forward, his hand moving to scrub at the back of his neck where his dirty fingernails caught beneath the frayed edge of his tank top and dig into his soft skin where they remained for a second as his lips pursed in honest consideration. “You don’t understand,” he finally said, arguing with very little offered for his defense. “I can’t just let it go- you were, fuck, you were taken and I don’t know how or what I would-“

“Let’s not think like that,” Peter shushed him, voice soothing and slow as he moved forward to place a hand on the bulging bicep visible to the harsh lighting. “I was taken, I escaped- I’m alive. Just remember that, hold on to that, and come to bed with me.” 

They both knew Peter could /force/ Tony to return to the bedroom with him, could hold him against his will with the simple flex of a finger against his chest to keep him pinned against the mattress, but they also both knew Tony wasn’t to that point yet and Peter would never abuse his powers like that. 

Three more days and maybe, just maybe, he’d consider webbing Tony to the bed with webbed restraints to keep him there for even just two hours. 

Tony look conflicted, tired eyes darting to every single one of his projects before they found Peter’s again, almost unbelieving, before they flickered down to his stomach. “But you could’ve died. Both of you.”

“I didn’t,” Peter reassured, “we didn’t. Loki saved us.” 

At the mention of the magical being Tony had an admittedly rough past with, Tony cringed and flinched back. Like the memory had physically scorned him. “I know,” 

At the deflation of his stature, Peter sighed and moved forward to wrap his arms around Tony’s neck and pull the man down so his face was buried in the crook of Peter’s neck, and vice versa. This, the motor oil and singed wires and sweat with a hint of liquor and something so distinguishably Tony, smelt like home. Sent his senses haywiring in all the deliciously right ways. 

Hoping to convey through the constricting of his arms that he was fine, to breath a calming air into Tony’s body, Peter pressed his lips against the thumping pulse point and sighed. It’s been so long since he was held like this. 

“Forget whatever it is you’re working on,” Peter said, giving his head a soft shake when he felt Tony open his lips to protest, “not another word. You can’t live in the past. I lost you, Tony. I let that drive me fucking insane- and I can’t do it again. I get that. I know what you’re going through. But if I lived in the past, allowed all the “what if’s,” to swamp my thoughts, then I’d have no room for the future. No room for growth. I’m fine, the baby is fine- and your projects can wait for you until tomorrow because tonight I call dibs.” 

He felt the second Tony gave in, relished in the way his body relaxed beneath Peter’s touch as the curving of his lips brushed the ticklish parts of Peter’s neck juncture where his shoulder and neck met. “Only until tomorrow,” he relented, giving in with little persuasion and Peter beamed at the minimal effort he’d put into actually caving the geniuses walls. 

“I’m fine with that,” he rushed to say, eager to lock Tony to his word for the fear the man would try to back out even if the words were binded by a promise as a hand moved to cup the back of his head. 

Peter leaned back to grin up at the man. “One night.” He said, his movement resulting in his head becoming fully cupped by Tony’s hand. 

“As you wish, Spider-boy,”

~~~

It’s the sensation of turning into dust that startled Peter awake, scrambling in the bed with the quilt tangled around his ankles as he gasps and tries breathing in the air not tainted with his own disintegrating flesh. The pain is still so vivid; raw. Slowly skittering along his nerves like tiny ants marching along a thin wooden branch, vibrating in their trek, and then it was suddenly enveloping him in arms that suffocated him. His spine was a livewire, sending signals to his mind that he was in danger as everything in his body melted into nothingness. Dust. Dirt. Unclamping the ball of nerves and pain that was his heart, and dissolving it into nothing. 

His scorched nerves were still raw as he jerked up in the bed- spent, gasping, sweat a thick layer of memories that branded his skin with the inability to forget, and his heart was pounding. Etching into his ribs the echoes of his begging. 

“ _ Please, Mr. Stark. I don’t want to go. Please,”  _

Tony’s eyes were there, so real, so anchoring that he could almost swear he was back on Titan. But then arms were wrapping around his bulging waist, dragging his shaking body against a chest that was achingly familiar but only made matters worse because yes- he remembered those arms all too well. Felt as his body turned into dust- those fingers closing around fistfuls of what used to be him but no longer was. 

“Sh, Pete. You’re okay-“ 

And that voice-  _ Christ _ , that voice was so soft and warm, a little startled even as the arms tightened around him a little tighter and Peter gave up fighting the grasp. 

Eyes still sealed shut, still focused on the face that was gazing down at him with so much pain- betrayal,  _ guilt _ . Eyes glassy, and death reflecting in the mirrored look.

“It wasn’t on you,” Peter sobbed, near hyperventilating as he twisted his body from the grasp only to reposition himself better- flinging his body into the man’s arms as he buried his face in his chest. His mind finally catching up enough that he was able to realize that this, these arms, were  _ real.  _ Titan held no more power over him. He was alive. He was back. He wasn’t- 

And then it started. 

The clenching of his chest, the swooping of his stomach as the room drew to a standstill and he was there, standing in the lab as he watched Tony drop to one knee and propose to Pepper. Reciting the words of love her whispered to Peter only the night before- knowing brown eyes finding his across the room and winking as if saying; 

“ _ Sorry kid, but you had your chance. You shot your shot and didn’t make the cut. There was bigger- better.”  _

But he knew the play, knew the plan, knew everything he was witnessing was nothing more than the development of Thanos’ fucked up television program evolving right in front of him and he couldn’t fucking breath. 

“You love her. You chose her!” He screamed, fists flailing and hitting nothing in his quest of self sabotaging heartache. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sir. I’ll do better. Please. Love me. Please.” 

Maybe if he begged enough, if he was desperate enough, Tony would choose him. Tony would love him. The man was a fixer. He saw a problem, and he fixed it and maybe if he saw how broken Peter was, he would want him. He would fix him. 

“Peter, stop it! I’m right here.” And there was that voice again, demanding even in the haziness of his mind as the image staining his eyelids broke apart and in its place materialized a black and white image, a small little bean front and center with five little fingers waving and suddenly- his eyes flew open. 

Promising him a tomorrow with the truth that today was real. 

Swollen and sticky with tears streaking down his cheeks, and through the window hued by the white, soft rays of the moonlight sat the main man of his nightmares; looking terrified with his brown eyes wide and darting in an assessing motion across Peters trembling body. Piercing through the strands of his hair, parting through his lips to paint his pink tongue with a soothing essence as he leaned forward, hands gripping Peter’s shoulders, and whispered, 

“That’s it, Peter. It was just a nightmare- come on. Come back to me. I’m here. You’re fine. We’re fine, baby.” 

And suddenly, his entire body was rendered motionless, reduced to nothing more than a gelatinous state that became unbalanced and tipped forward, spilling himself all over the man who quickly and eagerly scooped him up in his arms and didn’t waste a second to wind his entire body around him like he was a cocoon meant to protect him. Shield him. Efficiently cutting off any and all ties to the outside world. 

And, Peter sobbed. 

As soft lips brushed against the shell of his ear, hands brushing up and down his back in a soothing manor with soft, gentle whispers of nothing echoing loud and clear in his ears. 

“You choose her,” He croaked, still delusional as his Thanos world muddled and blended together with his real world and suddenly- nothing made sense. His memories were false, all clashing together to prove he was crazy and has made up and envisioned everything that has happened for the sake of staying sane. 

“I didn’t choose her,” Tony reassured, voice still no more than a soft whisper. “I choose you- I’ve always chose you.” 

“No!” Peter sobbed, the words only adding to the feeling of being crazy because  _ no _ , he was never a choice in the beginning. He hasn’t always been chosen. He was a toy, a game piece; used for convenience but otherwise forgotten about unless it was a pity play. But no- he was never  _ always  _ picked. “Y-You picked her. Proposed to her.  _ Loved  _ her.” 

He was adamant in his belief, both worlds memories disentangling themselves to create a clearer picture and he could see it. Watch in two different high definition versions as Tony chose, loved, and died with Pepper’s name staining his lips. 

And in a flash of long, brown hair tied up in pigtails, Peter was twitching in the hold and his sobbing intensified. Morgan was living proof here that Tony hadn’t wanted him. This, their relationship, was only a recently discovered craving. A bottom of the barrel pick, because Tony had nobody and nothing left. 

But apparently the man knew a panic attack when he saw one; could pinpoint the exact moment ration turned into insecurities that twined with one’s heart like black twine that laid a staking claim and demanded to be felt- breathed to life. Because with hands that never once lost their gentle touch, just used a little more force, he was prying Peter’s hands away from his face and moving him so he was pressed flat against the mattress with his arms above his head. Tony was left straddling his hips. 

“Peter- enough.” He said, speaking with an authoritative tone Peter fought hard to ignore but it tugged all the strings in his belly in the  _ right  _ direction. Allowing his body to settle in the thrashing fit of limbs contending with limbs, and fall limp long enough he could stare up at Tony; breathless, hot puffs of air leaving his lips as his heart hammered at his chest and mirrored the feeling of a heart attack; knocking him so breathless he couldn’t exactly remember what oxygen felt like when it wasn’t squeezing through closing airways. 

“Why am I never enough?” He asked, so vulnerable and bare he knew he would kick himself in the ass for it tomorrow. He wasn’t lucid. His nightmare was still dictating his thoughts, his actions, and he didn’t care how desperate or pathetic he seemed. He was  _ hurting _ . “I-I tried to be Pepper. I went to the Gala’s with you, matched your colors. I lost weight. I didn’t sleep with anyway else and I was- I was always dedicated to you. But I’m not good enough. I can’t be like her, can I?” 

And Peter watched as Tony’s eyebrows furrowed, the dark arches visible even in the low natural lighting offered through the balcony doors positioned feet away from the bed. He seemed confused- almost as if Peter was speaking of a world he wasn’t privy to, knowledge he hadn’t been passed down and it was that look that had his mind stalling because of course. Of course Tony wouldn’t be aware of his alternate self; created by the hands of Thanos. Actions only done to fuel the Aliens sick, twisted idea of a perfect fantasy. 

He didn’t know how pathetic Peter was there, in that earth. Didn’t know the boy had watched, time and time again, as he was overlooked for people who bared a similar resemblance to him after he was promised to have a small taste for his time wasted. He didn’t know of the night him and Tony were scheduled for a regulatory mission, a simple survey of a warehouse that had a spark of activity that had raised to Shields radars and called for alarm- that Peter had been left alone, battling twelve different aliens all harboring high tech guns that had rendered him immobile with a simple blast. 

He didn’t know that Peter had fought his hardest, and had been broken in more ways than one as he lay beneath a large chunk of a cement pillar that had been unlucky enough to become a target of the aliens guns. He didn’t  _ know  _ that that Tony had left Peter to die, with Friday shouting warnings at him that Tony was too ignorant to listen to- because he had a date. With Pepper. Figuring her life, twining with his, even for a night, was far more precious and valuable than saving his kid sidekick who was dying beneath half of a warehouse with internal bleeding and a deep laceration on his neck that had only been inches from his jugular. 

Peter would have died, too, he was sure, if Steve hadn’t heard the alarms Friday was sending out and decided to check out the scene himself. Finding an unconscious spider boy buried beneath so much rubble, you could almost hear the echoes of his cries in the cracks as he called out for Tony only for them to go unanswered. His lips certainly still held the name even though they were parted and blue. Proving the significance the arrogant man held in Peters life even if his own life proved to be more important for a night. 

But that wasn’t this Tony, was it? Regardless, the tears wouldn’t stop and Peter’s brain wouldn’t stop connecting the two men together in his head. 

He couldn’t hold this Tony accountable for that Tony. Couldn’t tell him he was the cause for so much heartbreak when he wasn’t aware of exactly how or why. He hadn’t left him stranded at Gala’s in foreign countries simply for a quick fuck with a hot young thing. He never forced Peter to feel so unbeautiful in his own skin that he’d went on a strict no eating diet for so many months his body had actually began to cave in on itself due to the lack of any fat. He certainly didn’t know that Peter had stopped eating until his arm was the size of a fifty cent piece: because he wasn’t present in that world. 

The face was the same. The eyes, that smile, the voice. But it was a different man with different priorities and it knocked Peter breathless when he saw, in the reflection of this Tony’s eyes, the truth that  _ he _ was one of those priories. 

“That wasn’t me,” Tony argued, and Peter would be out of his mind if he didn’t acknowledge the slight waver in the man’s voice. Almost as if he were as affected by the truths that plagued Peter’s heart. “Peter, you have to understand that whatever I did in that world, doesn’t count in this world. I would never, ever, compare you to Pepper or allow you to believe you were so imperfect you had to physically change yourself to catch my attention. It may have taken me- god,  _ years  _ to realize it, but you’re who I want. Can’t you see that?” 

And Peter could, he could see it. Truly. Didn’t mean his mind wanted to relinquish its hold on his memories anytime soon, though. 

“But I saw the way you looke-“ 

“Pepper has always been important to me,” Tony cut him off, the cut of his jaw tensing as he tightened his hold on Peter’s wrists. Not nearly tight enough to cause any actual harm, however. “I will not argue with you there. I often thought the only position in my life that I had room for was if I found myself a significant other. I found Pepper, and forced her to fit that role because I was desperate to be wanted in the ways she wanted me. But I knew right away we were better friends than we were partners. So don’t, for one second, ever think it was a competition between the two of you. She has her qualities, but you have your own, too. Clearly I like corny science puns and pizza nights on the couch more than high class dinners with hundreds of important people and formal parties,” 

The arch of Tony’s brow was meant to translate humor, and Peter wasn’t sure exactly when or how it happened but he realized his heart was slowing to a smooth crawl as the corner of his lip twitched up as his cheeks flared. 

His heart was a traitor. 

With a squirm with no real intentions behind it, Tony pinned Peter with a pointed look and leaned down a little further as he pressed his hips against Peter’s to further restrict his movements. “Want to tell me what this is really about? Nearly seven months with me being back, and this is the  _ first  _ I’ve heard about  _ any  _ of this,” 

Peter squirmed again, though this time it was due to the fact of being called out when he’d tricked himself into believing he’s stayed hidden so well. Clearly panic attacks only happen for a reason, or so Tony claims. 

“I had a nightmare,” he whispered, eyes closing to give him some sort of coverage as he turned his cheek to press it flat against the pillow now sticky with his tears. “About Titan, and dying. When you- when you tried comforting me, it just sent me down a darker spiral and I got lost in my head.” He shrugged, or attempted to but it was an abandoned effort because he couldn’t really move. 

Suddenly feeling bold when he knows he has literally no right to, Peter turned his head back up and opened his eyes to gaze at Tony from beneath his long lashes clumped with tears. “Do you love me? More than Pepper? More than anyone on this earth?” 

Tony startled back for a second, looking as if he’d been physically slapped by the comment, but quickly regained his posture as he stiffened his spine and locked eyes with Peter. “I have not, and will never, love another human being as much as I love you.” 

The sincerity in his voice was so powerful and  _ raw _ it knocked the very air from Peter’s still poorly working lungs. 

Tony cupped Peter’s cheek, thumb brushing down his drying skin to rest above the curve of his lip as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “You’re it for me, kid. Always have been. Was Just too stubborn to accept it.” 

And as if that very proof lied before them, awaiting to be called upon, Peter felt a rather powerful and pointed kick just above his belly button that he knew Tony felt against his lower abdomen that was crunched against Peter’s from his protective straddle/crouch over the boy. 

“I don’t think he likes that,” Peter teases softly, eyes instantly becoming clear and bright as he easily broke Tony’s hold on his wrist and sandwiched a hand between their two bodies to cup the ever growing bulge. 

“He’s going to have to deal with it,” Tony countered back, eyes still as terrified as before though now Peter knew it was for a different reason. Although he was already a father, he’d been absent most of Morgan’s life and this- all of this, was still so Fucking new to him it was painfully beautiful to watch him experience it all. 

Taking his hand, Peter pressed it against his stomach, with his hand held over it to hold it in place, and willed for the baby to kick one more time- just one more. Since his kidnapping mishap last month, the little shit had been one little active ball that had started out as flutters and quickly progressed to more profound and pronounced kicks and movements. Tony, however, has yet to  _ actually  _ feel him move. 

Intentionally, that is. 

“Speaking of, if we’re going to continue referring to the baby as a him, I think it’s about time we find out the gender,” Tony said, refusing to take his eyes off their hands still pressed against Peter’s stomach. 

Tony had, admittedly, took the news of the addition to his fatherhood far more well than peter had anticipated. Obviously they’ve taken it in stride, but he was getting there, up in the same ranks as Peter, and the man was absolutely smitten with the idea of becoming a father again. A more active father, that is. Morgan will forever be his little girl, but he was too absent to hold a claim over her like he could over this child. 

This wasn’t a do over, or a new chance at making a better family. It was his second chance at becoming a better  _ man _ . He didn’t fail Morgan. He failed himself by allowing himself to become so detached and distant that his daughter had to suffer. This was his way of making amends; of acknowledging all the wrongs he’s done and mistakes he’s made, and doing everything he possibly can to never make them again. 

Morgan wasn’t a trial, she was the one thing he couldn’t perfect enough. And it broke him. 

This baby was what Peter was hoping would heal him. Help him strengten the relationship with his daughter, and be more active in her life. 

“I told you,” Peter said in a breath, still focused on the fetus in the hopes his thoughts would make it move, “we will find out the gender once Morgan knows,” 

They’d agreed to hold off on telling Morgan, with Pepper’s cooperation, of Peter’s current situation, until they themselves had a chance to catch their breaths and settle down. But Peter felt like they’d had enough time. Surely a month was long enough? 

Tony blinked, once, before his eyebrows drew up. “I’m sorry?” He said, “since when did we agree my daughter was to be used as a bargaining chip. No gender until she finds out about her brother or sister?” Tony scoffed. “You’re diabolical. Very manipulative.” 

Peter grinned. “Figured it was my time to throw in an ultimatum.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Only you would offer an ultimatum that benefits me in literally both ways.”

Peter shrugged, opening his mouth to respond only to be cut off before he even began by a tiny foot using his belly button as a kicking bag. He grinned. “Did you feel that?” 

Tony was grinning, too, looking almost maniacal as he pressed a tad bit harder into Peter’s stomach. “Was that him?” He asked, question heavy with awe. 

“That was him,” Peter confirmed, soft, as his eyes slanted to the man without directly looking at him; taking in the happy lines and bright eyes with lips stretched tightly over teeth. This- this was  _ happiness.  _ In its pure, undiluted form. 

This is what two earths couldn’t take away from him.

The knowledge that whatever the path, whatever he was led to believe or still feels, Tony Stark chose him. And will continue choosing him, always. 

~~~

The morning greeted him a little more gently than the middle of the night had, with the content feeling of being warm and loved never going away, even as he gently pried Tony’s arms from around his waist and gently slid his legs from beneath the mans crushing thigh. The need to use the bathroom was urgent, with his bladder screaming in about seven different languages that were all equally demanding as he waddled into the bathroom. 

He did his business, taking an extra five minutes in the shower just to collect his thoughts and sort through his plans for the day as the water cascaded down his back in tiny droplets of liquid clarity. His curls stuck flat to his forehead, dripping water into his eyes that he had to blink away every few seconds- irritating them to the point that even opening them was a bother and that’s when he decided to climb out of the shower while he could.

Only to stop dead in his tracks when a sleepy eyed, messy haired Tony stumbled into the bathroom with his mouth open mid yawn and a palm scrubbing adamantly at his eye. 

Peter froze.

Tony stopped in the threshold when he noticed he was being watched, and like Peter, he froze. 

He has been back a month, went over the whole pregnancy thing with Tony and accepted the fate laid out before them; but that was all different now that Tony was standing before him, taking in his naked body engorged with the many bodily fluids that accompanied pregnancy with swollen ankles and toes added to the mental checklist Peter was making. This, right here in the now, was the  _ first  _ time Tony was seeing Peter completely naked since he’d found out he was pregnant. 

Before he hid beneath comforters and lies of shyness that was accepted as he pulled on an oversized sweatshirt to keep clothing between them and give him the chance to harbor his secret for just a minute longer- but now he was open and naked; afraid as his eyes widened and his arms moved instinctively to cover the swell of his stomach though his splayed hands did little to hide all he was offering. 

Tony cocked his head to the side, curious, and took a step towards Peter only for the boy to lift a trembling hand. “Don’t,” he whispered, pleading, “Please.”

“Why?” Tony asked, hand held in mid air with his left foot raised in an absconded step, “I’m not-“

“I’m gross, okay, I get it. Just please don’t,”

Peter, belatedly, moved across the room in three hushed strides to grab the towel off the counter and wrap it protectively around his waist and when he turned back around to face Tony, the ends of the towels clutched to his chest, he paused in his movements and faltered when he saw exactly what awaited him.

Tony didn’t look angry or offended by what Peter had said, nor was disgust evident in the track of his eyes across Peter’s body. He was looking at Peter, now, with a quality that reminded the boy Tony hadn’t eaten a bite in  _ days.  _

“Gross is when Thor eats pizza off the floor,” Tony said, voice calm and leveled as he took a step towards Peter, “Gross is when I walk in on the winter soldier and cap swapping spit,” he continued, his gait now mirroring that of a predator as his advancements on Peter slowed to a smooth crawl- almost as if he was taking his time, allowing the words to settle in as his bare feet unsticking from the tiled floor enunciated every step, “ _ Gross _ is when Happy walks around in his speedo because your aunt tells him he can pull it off-“

And now, he was standing in front of Peter who was holding his breath in anticipation, continuing in his movements forward which had Peter taking stumbled steps back until he felt the cool, tiled walls pressing against the blades of his shoulders and encompass his skin in a chill not even Tony’s hands could chase away even as they found the hem of Peter’s towel.

“This,” he continued, using a little effort in pulling down the towel (which Peter didn’t fight- didn’t even make an effort at holding it up) so it fell to a puddle of white waves at their feet before he gestured at Peter’s stomach, “fit none of those examples I have offered you. By definition, gross is something repulsive and this,” he took a step back, bottom lip slipping between his teeth as he skillfully eyed Peter from head to toe, “is far from repulsive.”

Blotchy red patches coated Peter’s skin as a warmth chased from the tips of his ears and spread down his chest, his hands held clenched into fists at his side as he fought the urge to hide. 

“You are beautiful,” Tony said in a breath that wrecked Peter’s entire system; sending him short circuiting as he tried working through the flood of emotions. 

And oh how he wished that could believe it. 

“Beautiful by whose definition.” Peter countered, a little breathless and a little woozy as he swayed on his feet- thankful for the wall offering him support because otherwise he was sure he would have already collapsed onto the floor by now. 

“Mine,” Tony growled in a playfully challenging way, “and that is the  _ only  _ definition that  _ ever _ matters.”

Tony was cupping his face before he could respond, and in a movement that awfully felt a lot like crashing into home, their lips met in a brief kiss before Tony was sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and biting down softly. 

“If you would like to argue with my definition, I guess I’ll just have to go that extra mile and see to it that your name is included under every definition equivalent to that of beautiful,’

And Peter didn’t question how, was terrified to, because of  _ course  _ he knew how powerful Tony Stark was- a simple altering to a definition in the dictionary was a mere splinter in his day. An inconvenience, but one that could be dealt with easily. 

“Let’s not,” Peter said, eyes bright, “and say we didn’t,”

“Oh, but-“

“Sir, commander Rhodes is requesting your presence in the common area. Shall I tell him you’re busy?” Friday cut in, the Irish lilt to her voice amplified in the large, open space around them. 

Peter grinned when Tony groaned, and used th AI’s distraction to brush past Tony and walk into their (was it theirs now- surely it was, Peter hadn’t even stepped foot in his own for over a month) bedroom. His clothes had even taken up residency in half of Tony’s closet. 

Faintly, he heard Tony respond to the AI. “No, Fri, tell him I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Pulling on underwear, Peter had to sit on the edge of the bed to do even that simple of a task, and he followed it by pulling on a pair of his jeans that still fit but awkwardly as the button dug at the bottom of his stomach, and a lilac sweater he was certain used to be Wanda’s but had now found a home in his wardrobe. 

“I’ll see you downstairs,” Peter called to a grumbling Tony, fondness guiltily sneaking into his smile.

~~~

Walking into the kitchen had to have been the biggest mistake he had ever, and will ever, make. 

Since he was rescued, he has actively tried to keep himself out of a room with any of the Avengers. Even if that meant staying holed up in his room and only ever coming out when he knew he would run into one of them- not all of them.

Yet, set huddled around the kitchen island, was every goddamn person Peter has actively avoided- and their eyes were all on him.

Brushing a still damp curl from his forehead, Peter shuffled on his feet and offered an awkward smile. “Hi,” he breathed, oozing anxiety as he longingly eyed the fridge from across the room.

“Nice to finally see you,” Steve grumbled, his naturally low voice even lower in an effort to remain casual as his eyes flicked over Peter’s body in an assessing motion. 

Peter moved his hands in front of his body not for the first time that day. “You too,” he mumbled, still as awkward as ever, before he decided enough was enough and took a step back- “I think I’m going to just go—“

“Oh, no you don’t, boy wonder,” Tony said, coming to a halt by his side with an arm sneaking around Peter’s back with a hold on his hip to cement him in place. “We are going to eat, and these fucks are going to either let us do so in peace, or each one of them will find their belongings on the sidewalk by the days end. Understood?

“That isn’t fair, Tony, we have a right to some answers,” Sam whined, a straw clenched between his teeth as he slurped a purple smoothie. 

“Seeing as we all put our lives into danger to save him- yeah, I think we are entitled to having a few questions answered,” Steve said, immediately backed up by Bucky. 

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” At all the nods, he scoffed in return and broke free from Peter to take a step forward. “So, that means I am entitled to questions too, yeah? Considering I risk my life for every single one of you daily,”

They were all smart enough to know not to answer, knowing exactly where this was headed and what kind of carefully structured questions Tony could ask that would crumble all their efforts at remaining anonymous in their quests- but it seems as if Wanda hadn’t gotten the memo. 

“Ask away,” she said, oblivious to all the heads snapping in her direction, “I will answer anything you ask. We all will.”

“You all will?” Tony echoed, the curve of his lips dangerous in itself as he turned to Peter. “Hear that? They’re going to answer my questions.”

Walking up to the counter, Tony pulled out a stool for himself and plopped down in it reversed so his chest was pressed to the back and he grinned at all his fellow teammates while Peter remained shuffling from foot to foot behind him. 

“Where to begin?” He asked, obviously finding far too much enjoyment in this as his eyes detoured around the room before they focused on a fidgeting Steve. “Your all talk, Rogers, when it doesn’t concern your own life. But how about we change that?” His eyes subtly flickered to Bucky. “What’s up with you and metal boy over here, huh? The spit swapping I have regrettably, and horrifyingly, witnessed a few times? The late night booty calls where Bucky thinks he’s being quiet as a mouse when he sneaks from your bedroom?”

He suddenly changed direction and pivoted his chair so it was directed towards Nat. “How about you, spider? Hmm? Wanna tell me why the big guy only ever listens to reason when it falls from your lips? Or where you were during Banners recovery after situation end game, because we all know it wasn’t some top secret spy mission in Russia,”

At being called out, each and every Avenger, even those who hadn’t been called out yet for the fear of having their secrets spilled, fell mute, wisely, and left Tony to bask in the silence with a smug smile. “It’s all fun and games until your life is being pried into, isn’t it?” Tony stood, and returned to Peter’s side. “My business is my business, and when it involves Peter directly, that makes it my business which in turn, makes it none of yours. Capiche?”

“You didn’t ask me any questions,” Wanda piped up, hand raised as if she was a student awaiting for her teacher to call on her. 

“That’s because I have none for you,”

“But I have one for you,” 

Tony raised his eyebrow, a little intrigued, and Peter watched as his eyes squinted as he calculated his options. “One question,” he granted her, nodding his head slightly.

“Do you love Peter?” She asked, and the cock of her head wasn’t challenging but rather curious- worried and rightfully so but with all the wrong reasoning behind it. It was if she'd forgotten of Tony's meltdown just last month, at the mere concept of losing Peter. It was as if she hadn't coaxed Tony into sitting at the table with his hand in a container of Peter's solution he'd created to rebuild Tony that accelerated the regeneration of his cells and had healed his broken hand in less than an hour. She seemed to have forgotten it all, or simply pushed it to the back burner in favor of questioning Tony when he wasn't fueled by guilt and heartache; faced with a situation where the end seemed more gruesome than one could stomach. 

“More than anything,” Tony said without missing a beat, the very admittance still having enough power to stop Peter’s heart altogether before it was restarted by the electrical jolt that reliably followed after. 

“Then that is all we need to know,” she said with a clap of her hands that rang finality, and the other Avengers must have realized as much because they were all pulling away to go back to their own things.

“Don’t let them bully you into doing or saying anything you don't want to, understood?” Tony whispered in Peter’s ear, face slanted so his beard was a rough drag across his cheek.

Peter nodded obediently, and brought a hand up to card through Tony’s hair. “I’ll leave the bullying up to you,” he whispered teasingly, earning him a wink as Tony was pulled away from him and towards Rhodes. Peter let him go, and Tony went with a frown. 

“You hungry?” Nate asked, holding up a plate of chocolate chip pancakes, the apology evident in the softness of her eyes. 

“I have syrup,” Sam piped up, him too joining it treety as he held up his peace offering and Peter grinned. 

“It’ll take a lot more than pancakes and syrup to win me over, sorry.”

“I have whipped cream!” Banner cheered, holding up his plastic container with victory and Peter rolled his eyes fondly. 

“It seems the big guy speaks our Spider-boys love language,” Natasha joked, winking at Peter. She handed him a plate stacked with pancakes, and he took it gratefully. 

“He better not!” They heard someone faintly yell, sounding guiltily like Tony, and that sufficiently burned through the rest of the tension and sent them over the edge as they all started to laugh.

~~~

In Peter being kidnapped, his small sacrifice had saved millions of children. Thor, with Loki’s help, had managed to track the intergalactic trading stations and they’d returned hundreds of thousands of human children home- as well as aliens, and arrested hundreds of dozens aliens who had been sent and dealt with by an intergalactic prison. 

“As far as we can tell,” Fury continued, his holograph flickering in time to the ticking clock on the wall- in five second intervals, “No other children have been reported missing and more than seventy percent of those who have, have been recovered.”

Apparently Fury still didn’t trust Tony enough to be in a room with him, with reasons Peter still weren’t privy to helping weigh his decision, because he insisted on using the holographic technology he despised to partake in today’s meeting. 

Tony nodded, elbows resting on the table from his place at the head of the table on the opposite side of fury with Peter to his right and Steve to his left. The rest of the team were all huddled around in the remaining seats, all present for the Chitauri- kidnapping debrief. “And Loki? Have we figured out his intentions yet?”

Fury looked past the camera into something off in the distance in his room, and for a moment his mic was muted before he returned his gaze to Tony and shook his head. “So far his intentions have been pure. He has helped recover and successfully shut down every ring we can find or that he was privy to.”

“But that doesn’t necessarily mean he is on our side,” Tony argued, elbows slipping in his retreat to sit up straight and defensive- preparing himself for an argument. 

Fury must have sensed as much, because he pursed his lips and squinted his eye. “I’m afraid not,” he said, eye slanting to whatever was off camera,“and with our positions, it is right to remain suspicious until given evidence to counter suspicions. Remain on high alert, all of you, until we have concluded what Loki’s true intentions are.”

In the reflection of Fury’s head Peter noted movement, a subtle change in the reflected light as it danced from shiny to an off white before it returned to that of a milky color. “He is in there with you,” Peter spoke up, all eyes turned on him as he leaned forward and squinted into the reflection a little harder to see black hair move over a shoulder as a breeze caught it. Standing next to him was someone bulky, with armor sending glints and shards of light slicing back in Fury’s direction, “and so is Thor.”

Fury narrowed his eyes at Peter, ready to call him out on his lie until a familiar face popped into frame and Thor grinned into the camera. “As vigilant as always, Spider-ling. It is correct, Loki and I are present and take no offense to your reservations, man of Iron.”

Peter looked over at Tony before he glanced back at Thor. “Hi there, buddy. How have you been?”

“Not well,” the god said with a defeated sigh, “Loki has managed to keep me up well beyond my required week and I am exhausted. How are you though, young spider? And the baby?”

“All is well,” Tony cut in before Peter had the chance, “Nice catching up with you. See you later,” and with that, he was clicking a small little button on his watch and Fury’s hologram was flickering out of existence.

“That was rude,” Peter said, turning an accusing gaze to Tony, “I was still talking to him.”

“And I was done.”

“You don’t get to decide who I do and do not talk to.”

Tony stood with a huff and an annoyed eye roll. “I wasn’t. I was simply done with the conversation.”

“Tony,” Peter groaned, “that doesn’t mean I was. I have every right to speak to the husband of the man who saved me.”

Tony’s jaw clenched and a gleam of something indecipherable shot through his eye before he turned his gaze away from Peter and focused on the landscape visible through the full glass wall. 

“The boys right,” Nat chimed in, “You are his what? His lover? Boy friend? Baby Daddy? Regardless of your title- you are not his keeper. Peter is free to do as he pleases, when he pleases, even if that means talking to a man you have branded as a traitor.”

“I have not,” Tony argued weakly, but the fact that he wasn’t yelling right now was evidence of his guilt. 

“You have,” Nat concluded with a nod, “And I’m not saying if that’s right or not. All I’m saying is Peter is a free man. Stop acting like his warden.”

“While I agree with that,” a voice cut in from behind them, high pitched and oh-so-fucking familiar it made both Peter and Tony freeze, “I have a few questions regarding the title as Baby Daddy. Doesn’t Peter deserve a title with a lot more claim than just that of a man who is carrying your child?,”

They all turned too find Pepper standing in the doorway with a hip popped out, dressed as immaculate as ever with a white silk blouse and striped black and white pencil skirt.

“Oh fuck, I thought I was free of you for the day,” Tony groaned, and Pepper flashed a toothy grin. 

~~~

“Your daughter is waiting in the living room,” was the first thing Pepper said when the team had enough common sense to realize when eavesdropping wasn’t how they needed to spend their time and all scampered to their respectful duties like cockroaches who had light shined on them. 

Only Peter was left alone to sit between the two people in the world with the biggest complexes, and despite his nocturnal instinct telling him he needed to tuck tail and run; hide while they were distracted, he had to stay put and be part of this conversation because it included his unborn child. 

Unaware that Tony and Pepper have had a discussion regarding the pregnancy before, and that the woman had been largely to thank for his rescue party finding his right location, Peter shifted in his rolling chair and folded his arms across his stomach. 

“And?” Tony implored, twirling a pen between his fingers and breathing an air of boredom even if his darting eyes betrayed his most valiant efforts. At that, Pepper widened her eyes a little and huffed, waving a manicured hand in Peter’s direction that had the boy squirming. 

Tony’s eyes floated to Peter, squinting as if he were trying to read exactly what Pepper was saying without actually being vocal. But it seemed the ink smudged across Peter’s skin was indecipherable to the geniuses eyes, because he shrugged and set his pen down. “I can go down and visit with her,” Tony said, standing with his hands smoothing down the flaps of his blazer, “not a problem.” 

“Not the point,” Pepper said, hands braced on the table which resulted in her blouse hanging loosely from her chest and in a sliver of lacy pink, Peter saw the strap of her bra and felt a sinking weight in his stomach when he saw Tony make the same observation. Only it went away the second he saw Tony cringe and return his gaze to his fingers tapping a beat Peter had never heard before but was oddly soothing nonetheless. 

“Is this an intervention?” Tony asked, trying to keep his tone of voice leaning heavily towards mock offense but it seemed the quaver just wasn’t having it. 

“It’s not an intervention,” she argued, “it’s been a month since Peter’s return- since Morgan has spoken to him and our daughter isn’t stupid. She knows something is up and I’m tired of lying to her. So you have one of two choices; you both march down there and explain to her what happened, what’s going on with Peter, or you continue the chain of lies and hope one doesn’t cross or interfere with one I’ve told her,” 

Pepper raised her eyebrow, challenging Tony, and the man sensed that. Saw how set she was in her ways by the square of her shoulders, the clench of her jaw. Even in the bright, fluorescent lights she was still godly looking and Peter was envious of her ability to remain beautiful regardless of her surroundings. 

“We were planning on doing it soon, Pep,” Tony said defensively, if not a little exasperated, as he sat back down and swiveled like a bored child in his chair, only Peter knew it was his way of distraction to keep Peppers prying eyes from delving beneath his lies and seeing the fear like a claiming brand on his heart. 

What if Morgan reacted poorly? Thought differently of not only Tony, but Peter? What if she decided she didn’t want a sibling, or anything to do with the mutant freak capable of child bearing. Tony couldn’t handle the thought of losing her, and Peter hated he was even put into this situation. He was solely to blame; not taking the proper precautions to ensure this never be a possible outcome and he honestly wouldn’t blame Tony if the man hated him. 

He just hopes Tony never forgets that, once upon a time, he’d once told an insecure boy he was  _ beautiful _ when he felt anything but. And he hoped he remembers the love Peter had attempted to pour into him following said proclamation. 

Because Peter never would. 

“Soon, Tony? You’ve known for a fucking month and Peter five. How much longer did you need? Were you just going to show up at my house one day with an infant and hand it over to Morgan like she has any idea what to do with it or who it is?”

“No,” Tony said, grinning sideways at Peter which could only mean whatever was to come was probably bad and would only piss Pepper off. “Probably would have waited until he was in kindergarten.”

And Peter was  _ correct. _

“Oh, and of course you’re deflecting with humor.” Sighing before she inhaled shakily, Pepper fell back in one of the empty seats the avengers had abandoned after they’d left, and brushed a hand down her face. “I’m just so tired of lying. How are you not?”

“We are,” Peter spoke up for the first time since this little sit down, elbowing Tony in his side and hoping the man would drop the humor.. “I just needed time, and I realize now that was selfish. Morgan has every right to know, and I’m sorry we’ve forced you to be the one who’s had to continuously lie to her.”

“Time,” she echoed, and it seemed to dawn on her then. Exactly what Peter must have gone through, what he had endured alone the first four months he’d stayed quiet about his pregnancy. Her eyes met Peter’s, and a sense of understanding passed between them because she nodded and all fight her body. “Okay, fine- yes, time. You’ve had your time. Now we need to figure out a way to tell our  _ daughter _ ,” she pointedly looked at Tony, intentionally keeping Peter from the loop, “that her father's new boyfriend, who also happens to be spider man, is pregnant”

Tony lifted his hands up, in a show that he was as clueless as Pepper was- as empty handed as he had been when he’d first found out and that the time they’d both spoke so highly of, had done little to nothing for him. He’d been holed up in his lab, working on things nobody would ever understand; things that probably wouldn’t pan out, but would hopefully protect his family in future situations. 

“Whatever it is you decide,” Pepper said, taking herself out of the equation and the role of decision maker as she rounded the table and placed a gentle hand on Tony’s shoulder, “you better do it quick. Not to rush you or anything, but I’m fairly certain she’s probably driving the rest of the team insane downstairs. She’s recently been on a kick about your nano- technology and has broken down the process you’ve used to create them so she now has a step by step plan on exactly how you can retract your suit with a simple press of a button,” 

And if that wasn't a terrifying admittance, that a five year old grasped and  _ understood _ such a complex task, Peter wasn’t sure what else could ever amount to that. 

But then he remembered the task laid out before them, and he groaned. 

“Let’s go do this,” Tony breathes, all faux encouragement Peter knew he was doing for his sake. 

So he stood, a little unsteady, and reached a hand out for Tony. “Let’s,”


	2. And lying it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO INCREDIBLY EXCITED TO BE SHARING THIS WITH YOU GUYS! This story has a slow start, I know, or rather this installment does but bare with me- we are getting places! Small little crumbs are being fed to you, and lets see what you make of it. The plot is slowly coming together. I can’t wait to share more!! (:

It wasn’t acknowledged, Peter noted sourly as he pushed up off the elevator wall he’d been leaning against and tugged at the oversized sweater he’d just put on in an attempt to conceal his stomach further. It wasn’t acknowledged how flirty Pepper was, hanging off of Tony’s arm like an arm candy and keeping particularly close to him while Peter had been left to wander alone behind them. 

It wasn’t  _ acknowledged,  _ because apparently to everyone who  _ wasn’t  _ Peter, it was nothing. Meant nothing. 

He tried keeping that mindset when he walked into the dining room and set down in front of Morgan.

She was busy scribbling on a white piece of paper with a blue crayon, the sharp lines cutting diagonally across the paper as it contended with the black and green already smeared in jagged lines to paint a picture with no real intentions, just expression. Peter smiled small, arms folded across his stomach with the purpose to hide it, and leaned forward to get a better look at the picture but from his angle, it still looked the same; like just a bunch of scribbles.

“That’s pretty,” Peter complimented her, aware of the two people hovering behind him in the entryway of the dining room- refusing to step foot inside because apparently world crisis’ weren’t as terrifying as the potential of breaking their daughters heart. 

Morgan’s brown eyes spared him a glance before they refocused on her paper. “Thanks,” she whispered, switching the blue out for red with gold on standby beside it. “It’s for Daddy,”

Peter smiled small, heart warming in his chest and expanding to send these tingles down his spine that he could only describe as love. “Yeah?” he asked, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially as one hand moved to cup the side of his face. “Can I know what it is?”

She looked at him again, her right eyebrow drawing down over her eye as she looked over his body in an assessing manner, looking for the cracks and evidence of the lies her mother has told her but she was too smart, too observant. Reminding him, not for the first time, just how much of Tony this little girl truly harbored. “I’ll tell you,” she agreed, nodding her head as she gave a pointed drag of the crayon down the paper without actually looking at it, “if you tell me why mommy lied and said you were sick,”

Peter sighed, forcing himself to fight off the urge to look behind him for any sort of support of comfort he knew would be swirling in Tony’s eyes, offered to him whenever he wanted to take it but Morgan was holding eye contact with him and turning now would only make her think he was lying further, looking to her parents for validation he was allowed to spew yet another twisted truth to her. 

“I have been sick,” he said, soft, sticking to the truth without jumping head on into it. Reaching out, he grabbed his own piece of paper with the green crayon and rolled it between his fingers for a second before sighing. “But before I tell you why, I have a… I have a question for you, Morgan.”

She nodded her head, finally breaking eye contact to return to her paper. “I suppose you can ask me a question,” she said and Peter snorted. That right there, that sentence, was a perfectly blended percentage of both Tony and Pepper. 

Inhaling shakily, Peter focused past the vibration of his jack rabbiting heart that was slowly working it’s way up his chest and lodging between his collarbones, threatening to cut off any and all air supply with one wrong breath. This was it, the last person who mattered that would know the truth and who was, arguably, the most important. She held the power over so many powerful people, and she was oblivious to it as she continued to scribble across her paper. 

“I have a question about babies,” he said, gauging her reaction and vowing if she showed even an inkling of distaste or discomfort he would back out of this immediately and leave one of the two cowards behind him to deliver the news. 

He wasn’t even sure why he had been roped into doing this. Last he remembered, both him and Tony were making their way towards Morgan, until Peter had to take a detour and switch into a thick sweater, with the intention of telling her only for Tony to chicken out the second he saw the little girl. Then Peter was pushed front and center by Pepper, who hung back with Tony, and expected to do this solo.

“I like babies,” she said, squinting eyes flicking up to his, “but that wasn’t the question.”

Faintly, Peter heard Tony snort behind him and he glared over his shoulder. “That’s right, that wasn’t the question,” he said, rolling his neck in an attempt to loosen his tensed body but it as futile. His stomach was tight, with each small inhale causing the muscles there to tense and quiver before he exhaled slowly and repeated. “The question is… have you ever thought about having a little brother or sister?”

Morgan’s head cocked to the side, pensive, as the red crayon worked it’s way between her short, chubby fingers in deliberating distraction. “Mommy and Daddy aren’t together anymore,” she finally decided, lips pursed as she tried assessing the situation with her eyes focused past Peter and on the two people behind him. 

“That’s right. They’re not,” he said, following her line of sight and hating how painfully his heart clenched at the sight. Still a mountain of distance between them wouldn’t curb how perfectly they looked standing next to one another; powerful, flawless, projecting an air of sureness without ever being cocky despite how perfectly unflawed they’d remained. “But what if one of them found someone else? Fell in love with them?”

At that, Peter got a soft, secret smile from Tony and suddenly the visualize aspects laid before him didn’t matter- Tony didn’t belong to Pepper. He was his. “Like you?” Morgan asked. “I know Daddy loves you. He said so when you died.” 

Peter’s breath stalled in his throat. “And you’re okay with that?” 

Morgan shrugged, and returned to her picture. “Mommy says there’s nothing wrong with loving someone of the same sex.” 

“That’s right,” Pepper piped up from the peanut gallery, shooting her daughter an encouraging smile which Morgan rolled her eyes at. Five years old, yet chock-full of attitude. 

“And if your Daddy decided to have another baby? Would you be happy to have a brother or sister?” Peter asked. 

The question hangs in the air, heavy and daunting with all its glorified truth lay hidden beneath Peter’s shirt he subconsciously pulled looser around his waist. 

Morgan’s neutralness to the entire discussion doesn’t shift, she doesn’t even blink when being handed such a question. A question that has caused her father countless nights sleep obsessing over. “How would Daddy have another baby if he’s in love with you?” 

Peter sighed. The million dollar question. One he had to explain without dumbing it down to a level Morgan wouldn’t possibly understand because the girl was smart, he just didn’t know how to breech a subject on same-sex reproduction and exactly how his biology worked considering even he hardly understood it. 

Then an idea struck. 

“You know how I’m Spider-man?” He asked. 

At the question, her eyes light up and in the pools of brown he can see exactly what she’s remembering; him swinging her around in the gym, careless and free. “Yes.” She giggled. 

“Well, when the spider bit me, it affected more than just my senses and strength. It tampered with my biology, and made it so I was able to have a baby like a woman.” 

Lips pursed, she nodded, and her eyebrows furrowed. “So you can have a baby like mommy?” 

Peter nodded, breath held, and heard when Tony’s heartbeat picked up speed. It was crazy how in-tune he was to the man without intentionally doing so. 

Then Morgan leaned forward, and took a daring move to pluck a jenga piece from the very bottom as she peered over the table at his stomach and Peter waited for it to all come crumbling down- for him to have just fucked her up so completely and irreversibly that neither Pepper nor Tony could forgive him. 

He sat frozen, unable to move or speak. 

Surprisingly, however, nothing fell apart. “That’s okay,” she said, and the breath that left Peter’s lungs felt like a tornado had just tore his lungs apart. 

Relief flooded his body, and he beamed happily at her. “Yeah? You wouldn’t mind having a brother or sister?” 

Shrugging, Morgan stood and picked up her piece of paper and walked around the table to stand in front of Peter. Her pigtails swayed with every step. “The picture is of you, Daddy and the baby,” she whispered, and Peter’s brain short circuited for three long seconds so by the time he was able to grasp at the thin strings of reality dangling in front of his face, the picture was already clenched between two of his fingers and Morgan was walking away. 

Sure enough, when he looked down at the paper and saw it from her perspective, the scribbles created zigzagged lines to create a harsh image on top with Peter kneeling on the ground with a bundle of blue resting at his knees with Tony, in full suit, standing behind him. 

The implication of what this picture meant hit him like a ton of bricks, and he spun around in his seat, horrified. “You knew?” 

Morgan smiled over her shoulder at him, secretive and shy. “A friend told me,” 

A sharp tingle ran down Peter’s spine, telling in the way his arm hairs stood on alert but with no real danger obvious, his eyes skirted around the room and he was forced to ignore it in favor of focusing on Tony. 

_ A friend told me—  _ but  _ what _ friend? 

“Okay,” Tony said, wide eyes moving from the place Morgan just vacated after she took off running down the corridor, and up to meet Peters. “What the fuck was that? What friend, Pep?” 

“I don’t know!” Peter argued, standing with a hand braced beneath his bump, trying to play off the attack on his spidey senses with an over-forced feeling of creepiness to the entire situation. “she drew a freaking picture!” 

“I told you boys,” Pepper said, “she understands Tony’s nano-technology. A male pregnancy is hardly a hard concept to grasp. As for the friend, I’m sure she just overheard me talking.”

~~~ 

“Are you going to talk about it?” Nat asked, sliding a steaming cup of hot chocolate across the table to him. He lifted it eagerly, eyes rolling into the back of his skull when he caught the heavy spice of cinnamon sprinkled on top of the mountain of whipped cream. 

“About what?” Playing dumb wasn’t necessarily hard, but was a tad bit tricky when he knew exactly what she was talking about and he  _ didn’t  _ want to talk about it so by playing off as if he didn’t know, he was hoping she would drop it. 

Turns out, Nat wasn’t feeling very giving tonight. “Neither you or tin-man have even discussed your kidnapping. Or the events that led up to it. Is he aware he’s the r-“ 

“Stop,” Peter snapped, glass cup getting set down on the table with a little more force than he intended which had the cocoa lapping over the sides and scalding the tips of his fingers, “He was  _ not _ the reason for anything. I worked with Fury under my own free will, without Tony’s knowledge. What I may or may not have received in payment for my time is invalid.” 

Natasha rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Peter,” she sighed, trying to play into the whole good cop, bad cop scheme she has really nailed but he was too tired tonight to keep up with her. “At some time or another, he’s going to find out that your stipulation for working with Fury was if Tony was allowed to remain titleless.” 

Peter huffed in frustration, opening his mouth to retort, only to be cut off- “oh, he knows,” Tony said, perched from his spot on the couch where he must have resided to after Morgan had left. After their little talk, Tony had taken her on an adventure around the tower and Peter had stayed back to fiddle with the drawing that, still, sat in front of him on the table. 

Jerking back, Peter willed his heartbeat to slow down and looked at Tony. The man was watching him so intently, even with two rooms separating them and darkness encompassing half of the space. “It isn’t what you think,” Peter rushed to say, desperate to scoop the truth backup and lock it inside a vault in his head because he  _ never _ wanted Tony to find out. “I was- you weren’t a stipulation. Just a— just a, um— bonus?” 

Tony snorted. “Please, kid, Fury spilled it all the day you disappeared.” 

Peter cringed, and inwardly cursed at the one-eyed man for having such a big damn mouth. He hung his head. “I’m sorry for lying to you,” he whispered, “and going behind your back. You were just so stressed and I- I wanted to help.

“By putting yourself in danger?” Tony asked, voice rising in volume but it lacked any anger and Peter felt more like a kid being scolded than anything else. 

He shook his head. “It wasn’t supposed to be dangerous,” he argued weakly, “I was supposed to have a team-“ and he cut off, trying to decide if the truth was the best thing here or if adding one more small lie would be better, “but I didn’t want to wait for them. I was impatient and could hear the children. I was just too reckless and quickly became outnumbered.” 

And lying it was. 

Fury may not have owed him anything before, but he sure did now. Peter wasn’t lying on his behalf or to save him, he was lying to protect Tony from the anger that was bound to follow knowing Fury had intentionally sent Peter into danger with no intention of helping out until  _ after _ he was sure there was probable cause. 

When he looked up, Tony looked disappointed and Peter  _ hated _ that.  _ Hated _ knowing he was the one who caused it. He would much rather take any lashing Tony had to offer, than be cause for his disappointment. 

“You won’t have to worry about protecting me anymore,” Tony said, a touch of snideness in his words as he stood. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means,” Tony said, deliberately pausing to look at Natasha whomst Peter had forgotten was even present, “I’m putting back on the suit. Permanently.”

Peter’s jaw fell open, and his stomach lurched. “You can’t,” 

Tony sucked on his teeth and nodded. “I am- and that’s the end of the discussion. If you can jeopardize your life for my freedom, then I have every right to jeopardize  _ my _ life for your protection.” 

“But you’re not ready,” 

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Tony said, but Peter saw it- the resignation in his eyes, the knowledge that putting it off any longer would only make picking it back up that much harder and he  _ hated _ this. That they were given ultimatums after surviving world-ending situations without truly being given time to recover or process. 

“Do I get a say?” Peter asked, small and hopeful despite knowing the hope was empty. Tony was already decided. His say was final. 

“About as much as I got in your heroics involving the Chitauri,” he said, and okay- ouch. That one hurt just a little bit. 

And with that, Tony was grabbing a bottle of whiskey off the shelf and saluting them before he disappeared around the corner. 

It wasn’t a question on if Tony was ready for it, but if Peter was. Playing Spider-Man was easy- putting his own life in danger was  _ easy.  _ But now, he had something to lose.  _ Someone _ , and he couldn’t very well go out and risk it all on even a simple routine mission because he had a little person growing inside him who depended on Peter to provide him safety and  _ not _ charge head on into a battle filled with guns. 

Tony didn’t have that limitation- that set back. Nothing was drawing him back from the line of fire and Peter was  _ terrified _ Tony would pull another heroic stunt like he did on the battlefield and sacrifice himself to save everyone else. Becoming noble and selfless once again. 

He didn’t realize he was crying until a thumb was stroking down his cheek. “It’ll be alright,” Nat whispered, something deep in the depths of her voices drawing Peter towards it and he so desperately wanted to go- to follow it and believe what she was saying. But something deep inside his gut was telling him a different story. “He’ll be fine.” 

But Peter could feel that wasn’t the truth. Something was coming- something big, and he knew Tony would be found in the center of it all. 

~~~

By the night's end, he found himself sitting cross legged on the too-large bed in his and Tony’s room with nothing but boxers offered as clothing. He was staring determinedly down at his stomach, trying to decide if the lopsided tilt the round globe had adopted was natural or if it were enough to call for alarm. 

The pains have stopped once the anxiety and stress of the entire situation with Morgan had been laid to rest, but as he got lost deeper and deeper in his thoughts, he could feel as the left side of his stomach tightened and watched, intrigued, as his skin twitched around what appeared to be the perfect outline of a very small foot before his body relaxed. 

It amazed him, how much he has felt, and knowing so much more was to follow. He wished more than anything that Tony were laying right next to him right now, admiring his stomach with the same level of awe as Peter was, but after his little admission in the dining room, Peter hasn’t seen nor heard from him. Tony was locked back away in his tower, only now he was refusing any and all outside distractions and had initiated a lockdown protocol which effectively cut him off from the people waiting on the other side of the door. 

Peter gets it. He reacted poorly, probably could have handled the situation better at the revelation that Tony was picking back up where he left off before Thanos, but his fear was valid and refused to be debunked or lessened simply because he’d upset Tony. If the roles were reversed, if Peter weren’t pregnant but were to instead be suffering from mild dysmorphia and a general lack of personal recognition when gazing at himself in a mirror, Tony would insist he steer clear of all battle. You have to be prime, vigilant, with no outside distractions causing any falters in your outcomes; in your decisions. You had to be self assured and clear headed- yet Tony was anything but. 

He would argue and say it was Peter just being young and dumb, but now he was being ignorant and blind to the same lines he’s spewed to Peter over and over again? What happens when Tony has an episode and disassociates from himself in the middle of battle? The nano-techs will sense his hesitancy, his sudden feeling of being in the  _ wrong _ place and they were intuitive. Followed a bodies commands and what happens when his body rejects the suit and it peels off of him mid flight? Or mid fight? What happens when a bad guy senses Tony’s weakness and uses it against him in the ugliest ways?

What  _ happens _ when Peter loses Tony all over again simply because the man was being petty and vindictive because Peter had gone  _ behind _ his back.

_ An eye for an eye.  _

Peter groaned in frustration, and chucked a pillow across the room with a bit too much force and cringed when it slammed into a Tony’s desk and had all the items that had once been there, flying across the floor and landing in hazardous places. 

He just- he can’t understand why Tony is being so difficult and adamant about returning to duty when he didn’t even consult with Peter? Peter realizes he’s a hypocrite for even being hurt by not being told, considering he’d done the same, but he was doing it to protect Tony. Not to get back at him. He would give anything-  _ do _ anything, for the man to see and feel it from his side. 

He would never ask Tony to give up Iron man, or his role as co-captain of the avengers. He would never force the man to choose between him or the team, because he  _ understood _ the craving for the adrenaline and the insatiable urge to protect and hunt and  _ hurt.  _ It wasn’t just a lifestyle, or done out of choice. You didn’t pick the life, it chose you and you could never give it up. Peter gets that. 

He just wants Tony to wait a little longer, to get his bearings, to allow his body a chance to adjust to the abnormal feeling of being dead then alive, forced back into the living with the expectation of being the same. In his line of work, mistakes weren’t  _ okay _ . They very well could lead to your death, and Tony has accepted that. Is almost resigned to the idea of dying all over again just to prove that he’s the  _ same. _

When he isn’t. He has nothing to prove, yet Peter can’t pound that into his thick skull. 

Falling back on the mattress, Peter stared up at the dark ceiling. “Fri?” He asked softly. 

“Yes, Peter?” 

“Has Tony been drinking?” 

“Tony’s blood alcohol percentage is zero point zero. It appears he hasn’t had a drink within the last twenty-four hours.”

So the bottle was just for show. 

Rolling over to clutch a pillow to his chest, Peter sighed. “Has he ate?” 

“Not since this morning,” 

He closed his eyes. Of course he knew that, he just wanted to believe otherwise. “Do I have the power to override his lockdown?” 

“You have the power to do whatever you please, boss. I am yours to use.”

Rolling back on to his back, Peter blinked at the ceiling several times before he finally stood up and left the room- still in only his boxers. 

Passing by the living room, where a handful of the team were at, he caught Nat’s eye and offered a tired smile. 

Sam whistled at him. “Damn, Spidey, going to get some? You know you can’t get pregnant, right?” 

Peter forced a laugh, a bit awkward, and pushed the button for the elevator. “The fun is in trying,” 

Sam winked at him and clapped so loud is was near deafening to Peter’s sensitive ears. “Damn right. Get ‘em, boy!” 

He realizes he must look like absolute shit, with his hair matted to his forehead and dark bags beneath his eyes, but he still took the encouragement in stride and, finally, grinned genuinely. “I’ll try,” 

The elevator finally arrived, and he stepped into the rocking cart, fully expecting to be making the journey alone, only the have a thick-fingered hand pushing between the two metal doors just before they closed, and stepping into the elevator with him. 

Steve gave him a side-eye but remained facing forward, hands clasped in front of his body like a typical Army stature. “You know I’ll watch him, right?” 

Peter sagged back against the wall and closed his eyes. He was too exhausted to go through this with yet another person, to hide his emotions, and he was hoping to make it out of here without crying. Fucking hormones. 

“I know,” he whispered, “still doesn’t make my fear go away.” 

“Nothing will,” Steve said, the truth in the absence of vibrato of his voice, “not even if you were out there on the field with him. Humans are bred to worry, to be over protective, and you already know the pain of losing Tony. You’re afraid of that happening again, of not being there to help save him but I promise you, Peter, Tony is strong. He’s smart, too, and he wouldn’t be doing this if he wasn’t sure of himself,” 

If Steve only knew how wrong he was. Tony  _ would _ do this even if he wasn’t self assured just because he was into that sort of rush you get from being reckless. He would do it just to put on a show for them because he falsely believed he had to constantly be the strong one. He was impulsive only when it was his own life on the line and Peter hated that. 

“I hope you’re right,” Peter mumbled, eyes still closed as he focused on the smooth rocking of the cart as it dropped a few floors. 

“I am,” Steve said, truly believing his insight to the entire situation called for his false cockiness. 

The elevators doors opened, and Peter shuffled out before he could say anything else- be cornered for a second longer. 

“And Peter?” Steve called out, and despite how badly he wanted to just run and pretend he didn’t hear him, he turned even with his body protesting, and faced Steve who stood motionless in the elevator with a hand held to the door to keep it from closing. “Try not to worry too much. He loves you. He wouldn’t be stupid to get himself killed and lose you all over again,” 

And finally, comfort was washing over Peter and he allowed himself a few selfish seconds to bask in it before he nodded, hoping more than anything that Steve was right. “Thank you, Captain.” 

“Goodnight, Peter. Try to get some rest.” 

The doors were closing, then, leaving Peter in the dimly lit hallway with the only sound his tired ears could pick up on, the slow whirring of a hand held saw bringing sparks to life rooms away from him in the direction of which his destination lied. 

He would trade it all, give it all away; for one thing. Just one, simple thing. The assurance that his work regarding Tony’s physical structure was as seamlessly done as he was led to believe. That in months time, his body wouldn’t fail him. His mind wouldn’t turn to mush and his bones to brittle timber, and he wouldn’t go crashing down to the earth all because Peter had given him the clearance; the go ahead. 

That it wasn’t  _ his _ fault Tony didn’t feel  _ right.  _

He would trade it all, to know if Tony would survive for years to come. That his stupidity and hero/god complex wouldn’t very well be what led him to his premature death, twice. 

But that assurance was asking too much, was widely impossible to acquire because tomorrow isn't promised and who was he to ask Tony to put his life on hold? Even for a few more months. What would he have done if Tony decided to put bringing him back on hold, and his five-earth years had extended in twelve or thirteen? Leaving him trapped in Thanos’ hell for that much longer. An entire lifetime?

He was asking Tony to forget who he was, to ignore the singing in his veins drawing him to the closest battles, because Peter was scared. And that was selfish. 

He knew that. 

He tried remembering that when he raked his knuckles down the door outside of Tony’s lab, with the glass tinted to block an outsider’s view into the lab, just to give the man a heads up of his presence before he muttered three simple words. “Override it, Friday.” 

The ‘it’ was apparently already known, a factor they’d discussed and she’d filed away, because without asking for further clarification, Peter heard the locks on the door clicking one by one before it was unlatching from the frame and popping open. 

With a hand cradled beneath his stomach and one pressed against the aching point at the bottom of his spine, Peter pushed the door open the rest of the way with his toe and stepped into the lab that felt like the arctic. The cold air immediately swept over his skin, dousing his body in tiny little goosebumps. 

He wasn’t sure what led him down here, where the motivation had come from or what he was intended to do once he reached his destination. But he stood before Tony, who was dressed in low cut black jeans that hung dangerously low on his hips, and a white tank top that had oil smudges smeared across the front, and never wavered. Even when his shoulders dropped beneath the heated stare of a pissed off man, all grace lacking in his stance that once scream self assurance but now mirrored that of a scolded toddler. 

With a rapidly declining grasp on reality and the words swirling like a hurricane within the thin barriers of his mind, Peter took a step forward and kept his eyes firmly locked on Tony though he noted the bottle of alcohol in the corner of the room, a bed of broken glass surrounded by the sickly sweet yet bitter burnt liquid that had once been whiskey. 

He tried not to allow the pride that blossomed in his chest at the sight, inflate into dangerous territories that threatened to make him forget the aching thump of his heart. “I didn’t lie to hurt you,” Peter whispered, trying to keep his voice soft and low to show Tony he wasn’t here for a fight, “I-I was protecting you. Wrongfully so, but what I felt needed to be done.” 

Tony scoffed, the sound slicing at the already damaged parts of Peter’s heart, and set down the saw to eye Peter over the rim of his orange tinted protective glasses. “What you felt needed to be done?” Tony echoes in a mocking tone. “Do you realize how much shit I’ve had to let go, even though I felt I needed to do more to better the situation? Do you know how many times I have let you walk away, or someone else,  _ knowing  _ I could do more, but also knowing that wasn’t what they wanted? It’s my life, Peter. I have the  _ final _ say. Not Pepper, not Fury and certainly not  _ you,”  _

So Tony’s intentions were to cause pain, to lash out at a person who had done little to deserve such a reaction but Peter took it and bared himself to the man to allow him more access to all his most vulnerable parts because maybe- maybe if Tony broke him down enough, he would go back to loving him. 

“I know that,” Peter said, the uneven vibrato of his voice bordering on a quivering note as his emotions broke through the barricade and flooded his body. “I know I’m not- I’m not your keeper. I’m just some boy who thinks he owes you more than this world has to offer because you gave him the world when he had nothing.” Tears sprung to his eyes, embarrassing him beyond the point of retribution. There was no going back from here, no erasing the image he’d just created in Tony’s mind simply because he couldn’t keep a hold on his emotions. “And I wanted to protect you.” 

The last sentence was said in a whisper, barely audible but amplified enough in the large lab to be heard by Tony’s ears. 

He saw the falter in Tony’s gaze, the moment the man became conflicted between his anger and his need to comfort, and chanted in his head, over and over again, 

_ Pick me. Love me. Forgive me.  _

Over, and over, and over again. Until the broken record was beyond scratched and the voice in his head became so raspy with overuse it was a mere breath the words were chanted in. 

Peter wanted to go back to earlier today, when Tony had cornered him in the bathroom and gazed at him with an unrestrained amount of hunger it had almost been terrifying- not this cold gaze that was bordering disconnection; no recognition in the warm brown when he gazed at the boy. 

“How can you protect me, when my biggest enemy is myself?” Tony asked, and it startled Peter how vulnerable and broken his question was; how  _ bare _ the man seemed now as his gaze flickered before his very eyes and melted into one of conflicted torture. 

Tony took a step forward, and Peter held his breath. “I know your intentions were pure; I know Fury used you because your heart is too damn big and he was aware, like you claim Thanos was, that I am your biggest weakness. I know it isn’t your fault that Loki saved you; but Christ, Peter. I can’t shut it  _ up,”  _ he tapped at his temple, feverently, “I can’t shut my goddamn mind up. I’m continuously reminded of how useless I am compared to you. I’m supposed to protect  _ you.  _ How can I do that if you fight my every move? If you go  _ behind my _ back and conspire with the enemy just to give me a few more borrowed seconds. How can I  _ protect _ you when my best efforts are swamped by those who surround us?” 

He waved aimlessly around the lab, trying to prove a point that wasn’t there- that was lost to Peter as he rounded the table and took another advancing step towards Peter, who still stood anchored in place. “If I’m not Iron Man, I’m  _ nothing.  _ And if I’m  _ nothing,  _ then how can I possibly be worthy enough of you?”

The words took Peter by surprise, completely derailed and discredited any and all attempts he’d made, or hoped to make, at remaining composed and unaffected in a situation that had literally already made him cry but nothing- and he means  _ nothing,  _ compared or amounted to that simple sentence. 

An echoed breath of insecurities, anxiety; something he felt so strongly and fiercely it was terrifying. 

He was aware of Tony’s unsureness regarding himself- knew the man’s problems and how his mind worked, but he never thought- never  _ hoped-  _ Tony would be so lost, he was insecure in his relationship with Peter it led to him grasping the thin strings of something he thought Peter wanted. His main attribute that had drawn the boy in and made him fall in love with him. So unconfident In where he stood,  _ how _ he stood. 

And it was in that moment it all made sense. The hiding, the fights, lashing out, the desperate attempts at becoming someone he didn’t feel he was but thought Peter wanted. The general lack and disregard to the consequences that came with his actions of returning to the position as Iron Man prematurely. 

He did it because he thought Peter would leave otherwise. Because he thought he wasn’t  _ worthy _ enough otherwise. 

It was too much all at once, and Peter laughed because it was the only logical thing he could do that didn’t involve bursting into tears. It was a pitiful sound, with his nose stuffy and clogged which made his laugh nasally and short- though it didn’t take away from how absolutely insane he was to be laughing when Tony was  _ baring  _ himself. 

Showing Peter that although he fronted and appeared unfazed by it all, thinking he hid so  _ well,  _ that that wasn’t the case and he was  _ scared.  _

“You’re an idiot,” Peter breathed, the coldness in the room suddenly unbothersome even though he was dressed in just his boxers. Shaking his head, Peter laughed again and sniffled, eyes finally finding Tony’s. “If you think I’m with you because you’re Iron Man, than you’re more ignorant than I thought.” 

Tony made a hurt face, confusion quickly changing his features before he settled on anger. 

And to soften the blow of his words, to erase the malice that seemed to be hiding behind them even if Peter never intended to come off as chastising, he took a step forward and lifted his arms up to, in turn, bare himself to Tony. 

“I followed you to outer space,” he began, missing the confidence he was poorly trying to portray by making his voice just a tad bit louder than necessary, “I worshipped the ground  _ you _ walked on. I brought you back from the dead and willingly followed you to your  _ death.  _ I bragged about knowing Tony Stark, and being privileged enough to work by his side in the lab. I gladly took all the mundane things you offered me; from simple movie nights, to dinners, to lab sessions and even just quiet nights in- and I would  _ happily _ take all of those over fighting by your side as Iron Man-“

And okay, not what he meant to say. Not at all what he was trying to communicate. He was getting off topic, completely sidestepping what he’d intended and taking the back route that was only causing more harm than good. 

He groaned. “What I  _ mean,  _ is iron man is  _ cool _ . He is a world renowned superhero who has saved millions of life’s- but he is nothing compared to you. Nothing  _ without _ you, and you’re a fool if you believe I’m with you simply because you’re Iron Man. With or without that over glorified title, I have remained where I am. Where I have always wanted to be. I love you because you’re an insanely brilliant, yet infuriatingly careless idiot who gives too much and believes he deserves nothing in return. I love you not for your title, Tony, but for your heart you claim you don’t have.” 

Tony’s eyes appeared watery, but he could easily claim it to be a play with the lights- a reflection that made the brown swirls glossy and  _ not _ because he was affected by what Peter has said. 

And maybe, Peter would have agreed. Who was he to believe he was capable enough to make Tony  _ cry?  _

“A man once told me, ‘if you’re nothing without the suit, then you shouldn’t even have it,’ and while I disagreed with him at the time, I agree with him  _ fully _ now.” Tony cringed as his own words were thrown in his face, and Peter watched as his eyes closed and his shoulders sagged forward with a resignation that was  _ powerful _ in Peters eyes. Represented the exact moment ‘Iron-man’ carefully listened, considered, and followed his words of advice. “If you believe yourself to be nothing without your suit, then that’s the time you need to take a step back and find yourself without Iron-man taking front and center in your life. And that time- that time is  _ now. _ ” 

Tony’s eyes remained closed, face stoic even as his eyebrows jumped as his jaw clenched and his teeth gritted. He remained still, and Peter was afraid he’d struck a nerve until finally,  _ finally,  _ Tony’s lifted his head and opened his eyes. 

What Peter saw there, made him breathless. It wasn’t just  _ love,  _ it was something- something he couldn’t explain, couldn’t pinpoint. It was heavier while also freeing; terrifying while  _ enchanting.  _

“I can’t save you if I’m not him,” 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Peter said, hand reaching out to brush at Tony’s cheek and it wasn’t until that moment he realized that he’d moved and there was only inches that separated them now. He cupped Tony’s cheek, and forced the man to look into his eyes. “You already have. I was headed down a- down a dark road when you found me. That’s common knowledge. Without you, I would probably be dead by now- permanently.” 

Tony’s breath stuttered. “And if I never become Iron-Man again? Decide to retire?” 

Peter smiled, bright and reassuring, “Then I guess we can finally move to our little country home and settle down,” 

Tony blinked at him, looking completely baffled by the idea of Peter not only willingly  _ following  _ him towards retirement, but following in his steps and agreeing to settle down in a mundane little neighborhood where they could play as a happy couple and live a simple, domestic life. 

Away from the fighting, and the wars, and the end of the world apocalypses and out of control gods and magical aliens- and even as he thought it, the idea was far too tempting. 

A few seconds passed in a pregnant silence, just two men staring at one another as the conversation settled around them like a thin blanket draped over their shoulders that carried a weight that was comfortable; not suffocating. A weight that said, ‘I opened myself up, admitted my fears, and  _ lived,’ _

And would continue doing so. 

“Pete?” Tony finally asked, lips barely moving to form the words but he turned his head in Peters hand and pressed his lips against his palm, eyes closing. “You can’t lie to me again- I can’t- I  _ can’t  _ have the one person I truly care about, keeping things from me too. Promise me- promise tha-“

“I promise, Tony. I didn’t do it to hurt you. I did it-“

“To protect me, yeah,” Tony blew out a soft chuckle and scrapped his stubble across Peter’s palm in his retreat from the cupped embrace, sending little tingles shooting down the boys spine. 

“But you have to promise me something,” Peter countered, shivering as Tony, instead of moving his head completely, flipped Peters arm over and began to trail slow, soft kisses up the sensitive part of his inner forearm. 

“Anything,” he said, punctuating it with a kiss to the juncture of Peters elbow. 

“No more feeling solely responsible for my well being. You can’t protect me from everything,” and despite getting all his words out, he stumbled over half of them and his voice was quivering. 

Tony hummed, reached his neck, and pressed the blunt tip of his thumb nail into Peter’s chin to turn his head to the side to give him better access to his neck. A threat of pain in the embrace without the promise of follow through because his nail stayed there; didn’t dig deeper or pull away. “I can try.” 

“No-“ Peter gasped, arching into the drag of Tony’s stubble across his collarbone, “no trying. You have to stop. Stop o-obsessing over every small thing that could go wrong.” 

Another hum, though this one was centered right at his neck and he felt it vibrate his Adam’s apple. He gulped. “No promises,” Tony whispered, placing a kiss there before he began making his way down Peters chest and the boy was fighting for control- grasping for that last shred of common sense that was attempting to root him to place and push him towards his end goal. He did come down here with a purpose. “But I’ll make a solid effort to try.” 

And that’s all Peter could really ask for, isn’t it? An effort? 

Seems his body didn’t care what his brain had to say, because it stopped listening the precise moment Tony drew a nipple into his mouth and flicked his skilled tongue over it before flattening it against the swelling bud- the rough drag sending Peters senses into overdrive as the boy moaned and pushed into the assault. 

He felt Tony grin against his chest, and knew then he’d done nothing- didn’t make Tony admit or say anything he didn’t want to. 

He’d been played. 

And oh- those hands knew how to play _ well.  _

In another world, where Peter wasn’t so terrified with the response, he would have asked Tony what he  _ was  _ to the man- what their relationship meant and if he had any right to lay a claim on the man who occasionally fucks him, tells him he loves him, and just happened to impregnate him. He would have asked him while the moment was still light but heavy, where secrets were being spilled and truths admitted. 

In another world, where Peter wasn’t a coward, he was sure he could live with the response, whatever it may be. But he wasn’t in another world- he was in this world, and for now, he would just have to deal with what he had. Titles or not, Tony Stark was intently kissing his way across his body and in a world not this one, Peter had once though this to never be possible. 

So for now, he would be grateful. 

~~~

The click of her bedroom door rang with finality, the small night light she had in shape of Spider-Man sending sharp slices of bright light across her ceiling in rays of comfort that contended with the dark monsters she knew to be lingering beneath her bed and in her closet. She rolled on to her side, arm sandwiched beneath her head and pillow, and watched in fascination as the light slowly changed from a bright white, to a calming blue before it bled into a red. With him watching her over her as she slept, protecting her, she knew she would always be safe. After all, he was gifted with the position of guarding the most unguardable man and had succeeded for years in keeping the man safe and somewhat sane. 

She knew as long as Peter was present in her life, all would be well. 

Which is what led to her slipping out of her bed, the loose nightgown she had flowing around her body in a blanket of pink with shimmering diamonds catching the light that had faded back to white. An array of colors danced across her ceiling, rainbow battling the darkness and sending corroded versions of her own childish fantasies zipping across her ceiling as she quietly opened the door and snuck out. 

She’d waited the safe ten minutes required for her mom to actually be asleep, knowing the glass of wine with dinner would only help her mom fall into a quicker slumber and with quiet steps, she made her way across the chilled hardwood, blending into the shadows and developing a level of stealth she hadn’t been capable of months prior. But with practice makes perfect. 

Before her laid her destination, the warm yellow light slithering from beneath the oak wood door letting her know her friend, the one she’d confided in for months and truly believed she could trust with just about anything, was awake and waiting for her. As he was every single night. 

With a quiet but practiced two finger tap against the door, their own secret code, she was opening the door and slipping in quietly with a barely contained level of giddiness making her small fingers shake as she carefully closed the door behind her. 

The room was warm and smelt of burning wood, the fire pit in the center of the room being put to use as the man she’d came to meet fed the flickering flames another thick chunk of timber before he turned to her with one fluent movement, the grace in the way he spun before unfolding into a stance with little less than a sway amazing her. He smiled at her, warm, with his blue eyes open and sincere as he held a hand out to her. 

“Hello, Morgan,” He said, and she smiled brightly up at him, her long hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders; a stray piece falling in front of her face to obscure her vision through her left eye but she made no effort to move it. “Shall we pick up our discussion of Spider-Man?” 

The grin he flashed following his sentence looked familiar to her, like that of a cheetah preparing to pounce on his pray but he always made a show of baring his teeth before lunging for the kill shot- and worry as she may, she never once questioned his intentions. He’s taught her things- like how to draw the picture she had given Peter. He’s told her things, secrets the adults have kept from her. Deciding she was too young and stupid to know or understand the truth- too innocent to grasp the complexity of the real world. 

But he never treated her like that; never made her feel like a child. She was an adult to him, to be trusted, and he’d proven so by telling her his own secrets he’d become privy to. 

He told her about her father’s death and his resurrection. 

Of her father’s relationship with Peter. 

Of Thanos and his potentially world ending plan. 

Of Peter’s pregnancy. 

And in return, she told him things. Things of her father, and Peter, and the rest of their team. Fed him information with the false sense of keeping them safe. 

How was she supposed to know the man was simply using her for his own benefit? Gaining her trust with the intentions of misusing it? 

After all, she was only seeking a little validation. 


	3. Forgive me for what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is extremely rough, and I apologize! I wanted to get something out, anything, and after a dry spell and a current writers block I’m still suffering through, what I came up with is still readable. Just extremely rough. I hope you enjoy it regardless, and I’m so excited that this plot-line is drawing together now! I have so much in store for these two. I am so excited to finally be introducing Michael, an original character, and I can’t wait for y’all to see what his role in this entire thing is! Stay tuned. (:

It was exhilarating, Peter realized as he pulled the collar of his shirt up just a little higher- just a  _ little _ closer to the curve of his neck, attempting to hide his most visible secrets that laid on his skin like stars. Creating a constellation of blue against pale skin; a story that Tony had painted on Peter’s body only the night before in the form of spaced kisses and lingering bites. It was exhilarating because as Nat stood before him, eyes studying his body for any sign- any tell-tale that something was wrong, she had no idea the dirty secrets that lay to wait beneath Peter’s clothes. 

She had no idea the curved, half moon bruises that marred the sensitive skin on the inside of his thighs, or how sensitive his hyper-aware body was even after having hours to recover. She didn’t know, because they were Peter’s secrets to keep. Memories only he had, parts of Tony only he was privy to. And it was exhilarating because despite his reputation, despite how many claim to know Tony, only Peter has had this Tony. Only Peter knows how the smooth curve of his lips feel pressed against certain parts of his body; how his tongue feels as it traces over the bumpy ridges of his spine- how fast Tony comes undone when Peter straddles him in the lab chair and takes all Tony is offering to give him. 

With a smile that hid nothing and offered a glimpse at all he was hiding if one dared to peak just a little bit beyond what initially was offered on the top, Peter pulled the sleeves of sweater down and sat at the table. “May will be here to pick me up soon,” he gushed, excited at the prospect of being allowed out of the tower alone- meaning without any sentinels following and keeping guard or Tony himself coming. It had taken quite a bit of persuading, but he’d eventually convinced Tony when he gave him the ultimatum; 

Either he went with Tony’s blessing, and Peter gave Tony his full cooperation and stayed in contact with him during the entire extent of his visit in the city, or Peter went anyway and stayed with May for a few weeks. 

Tony eventually saw it his way, realizing suffocating Peter was only going to push him away when all he wanted; all he ever  _ craved _ was his safety. Smothering him wasn’t protecting him; it was killing him. 

Nat picked at her piece of pizza, the cheese long since forming into a complete solid as it cooled down. She watched Peter, curiously, if not a little hesitantly. “You’ll stay on alert?” She asked, and his heart warmed at the thought that she cared enough to worry over a few hours of him being gone. “Be safe?” 

He rolled his eyes, fondly, and smiled despite how he became vaguely aware of the prickly sensation of annoyance chasing down his spine. “Of course I will,” he chuckled, the white folds of his sleeves overlapping the tips of his fingers and he gave a frustrated sigh as he tugged them up once again- alternating between pulling them up and down- and grabbed his bottle of water. 

He played with the lid. “I’ll be safe,” he eventually promised, knowing he’d expect the same level of reassurance from her if the roles were reversed. 

He hoped he’d find some sort of relief in this short little vacation he was being offered- that the few measly hours would chase away the stagnant feeling of his blood pausing in his veins, and would have some sort of excitement zapping through his body; offering an altered, if not cheap version, of adrenaline he got on missions or when he helped random strangers on the sidewalk. He’d grown tremendously bored, so much so he’d considered bringing Dum-E up to his room just to have someone physically there to converse with, even if he got offered nothing but whirred responses and the failed robot running into the wall repeatedly for absolutely no reason other than he was trying to be helpful. 

Tony always claimed he was his greatest failure. 

Friday was good company, but sometimes he craved the close proximity of another person who wouldn’t judge or read too much into a simple conversation. 

Nat nodded, and seemed to understand how annoyed Peter had grown after being hounded by each and every Avenger who was currently in the tower- three times solely by Tony himself, because she dropped the subject and ripped off a piece of pizza with a little more force than was necessary. 

She’d grown bored too, it seemed. Unsatisfied with the mundane life she’s been living with the lack of world-ending catastrophes and out of world invaders. With enough pent up energy and anger in her system Peter wondered how long she would last before she eventually snapped. 

He noticed the slight tremor in her hand as she forced it to uncurl from a fist, and he felt sympathy for her. He felt the same way she did; hated sitting still for longer than a second but pregnancy had taken a toll on his body and he wasn’t sure he could even swing from a web right now without getting motion sickness. Fighting, rather it be purely for practice and all hypothetical, or a real life situation, was a big no-go and he felt useless. 

As useless as one could possibly be when they were attempting to grow another person, that is. 

“Why don’t you hit the gym?” He suggested, acting as neutral to the situation as he could as he flicked the cap off his water bottle and took a hazardous sip- droplets escaping the seam of his lip and trailing down his chin which he made no effort to wipe away. “I’m sure Tony could use the practice- I’m afraid if he sits still for any longer, he’ll turn into a literal statue,” he joked, attempting to use humor to erase the way Nat’s sharpened gaze made him feel. 

His skin was crawling beneath her trained eyes. 

“You sure tin-man can keep up?” She asked, and Peter exhaled the breath he’d been holding, thankful she hadn’t immediately ripped his head off and was instead entertaining his idea. “He could before but-“ 

“Oh, he can keep up,” Peter said, laughing a little incredulously at the implication that a younger Tony who had been created nearly invincible (not invincible, but more so than his previous body was) with more durability and a faster regeneration time-frame with minimal chances at any torn ligaments or muscles, couldn’t keep up. “He could possibly give you a run for your money,” he said, smug. 

Tony’s human body had been strong, no doubt or argument there, but this body had no limitations. It had the same fighting strategies as human-Tony, without the same holdbacks. He was stronger, faster, more strategic. And Peter had no doubt he could take the black widow with minor setbacks- possibly was even competition for the god of Thunder. 

Nat smirked, a certain twinkle in her eye Peter recognized. “We’ll have to see,” it was being posed as a challenge, and she was accepting it.

He giggled and rolled his eyes. 

Swiping a hand down his tired face, Peter fought back a yawn and checked his flashing phone to see a photo of him and May, pre-snap, on the screen. He was so young, so innocent- so naive to what waited for him in the world, and he would give anything to feel that way for just one second longer. One second of pure ignorance where his perfect little bubble hadn’t yet been popped- tainted. 

He swiped his finger across the screen, and lifted the phone to his ear. “Hello?” 

“Peter- hi, it’s May,” the woman on the other line said, voice a mere whisper as it was carried off in the wind that was loudly whipping and beating against the speakers of the phone. 

As if he needed that clarification. “Yes, May, I know.” He rolled his eyes, wondering how many times one could do that before it became a permanent placement of his eyes, “I have your number saved.” 

He heard her yell something he couldn’t quite decipher, then the slow whir of something and finally the obnoxious screeching of the wind was no longer audible. Only now, her voice had to contend with the low hum of the purring engine and Happy's low breathing he could hear in the background. “Right- right. I forget you can do that.” She said, “but that’s not the reason I called. Happy and I are a few minutes away, be ready. I would offer to come up and get you, but I know once your boy-wonder knows you’re leaving, we won’t be allowed to leave until he’s interrogated us each separately and has somehow conned his way into coming with us.” 

Peter laughed because, yes. Tony would somehow convince one of them, most likely Happy, into spilling their plans for the day and he’d eventually “run into them” on pure coincidence and Peter wasn’t really interested in having a over-protective Tony crashing his fun day away. 

“I’ll be downstairs waiting,” he said, already standing with Nat immediately at his side, arm held out for support like he was some beached whale who couldn’t stand a few seconds without needing someone to literally hold him upright. 

Swatting her hand away, he said his departure to May and hung up as quickly as he could before he waddled towards the elevator. With a quick pat to his pockets, he double checked that he had his phone, wallet and a small packet of saltine crackers he found himself carrying around everywhere he went just for the reassurance that if he needed them, they were there. 

He didn’t say goodbye to Tony, knowing the man would throw a big fit over him leaving and would only stall it for as long as he could, and instead typed out a text on his ride down on the elevator and only pressed send when he was tucked safely in the back of May’s car. 

Which was really just a Stark Industries car Happy had been given as a wedding gift from Tony years ago, in Peter’s absence. And somehow, yearly, it was swapped out with the latest model and they never had to lift a finger. 

_ May and Happy just picked me up. I’m in the back of their car, and I’m safe. I will be back later, Tony. I promise. Be careful, and don’t do anything stupid. Xx _

He still didn’t have the balls to text Tony that he loved him, hated being so straightforward and transparent with his emotions even if the word was a gross underplay on how he really felt. He would do it one day, he was positive. Probably after Tony did it, or hopefully before. He was just terrified Tony would react poorly even if Peter had no valid reason to feel that way. 

May was talking animatedly in the front seat, rambling on and on about their honey-moon and everything Peter had missed out on and how their wedding had been a small little thing at a cabin Tony had rented but it was intimate and only with the people they were closest to. May had no one, though she never directly voiced that. He could tell how it bothered her, though, in the way she paused in her storytelling and how her voice dropped a few notches lower, almost as if she were ashamed at the truth that beyond Peter, beyond what was at the time a (would’ve been) seventeen year old boy, she had nobody. Relied on nobody. 

It was erased, however, the heaviness the air had adopted at the quiet admission, the second her eyes found Happys and regardless on Peter’s bitterness towards how much he’d missed out on- on time he’d never, ever get back- he couldn’t help the blossom of happiness that erupted hot and full in his chest. Left little room for the jealousy and hatred. 

May was happy now, with Happy. It didn’t matter if he didn’t get to witness the beginning of their story. He was here now, and he was grateful for even that much. 

“So,” Happy said, cutting May off mid-breath to prevent her from beginning another ramble, and locked eyes with Peter through the rear view mirror, “you’re pregnant. Quite a progression since the last time I saw you.” 

The question wasn’t obvious, wasn’t voiced, but it was there, in the crunch of his brows and the slight twitch of his nose. It was as evident as the lack of disgust or destatation in his words. Happy wasn’t judging, held no malice or resentment towards neither Tony or Peter, and he was certainly curious of the situation but that wasn’t what he asked. Nor was the sentence uttered really what he’d intended. 

Peter smirked, a little half smile that was barely a curve of his lips but Happy caught it- acknowledged it with a smile of his own. “I’m happy,” Peter said, answering the question not voiced, and laid a hand on his stomach. “So is Tony. I’m aware it’s not necessarily… natural, but then again, nothing we deal with is ever natural nor practical.” 

Happy nodded once, a look of understanding pausing over his face in a flicker that appeared haunting in the hollow points of his face, but he shook it off as quickly as it had passed and focused his eyes on the road. Attempting to see the world, and not his own nightmares that stained his eyelids. Evidence of exactly what wasn’t practical, or even moral, that had taken place in his life. 

“You hurt him,” Happy said, voice thicker than normal; breaching so many different emotions Peter couldn’t pinpoint just one in the quiver of his vocal cords. But he noticed it wasn’t posed as a statement, but rather formed in a way that wasn’t a direct question. “And I promise you, it will be the last thing you do.” 

The threat was obvious. Plain and simple- but the weight it held was uncomfortable and Peter squirmed in his seat, ignoring the squeak of leather beneath his body as his jeans slid across it, and focused on the passing imagery out his window. Trees fading into houses, and slowly into large buildings and apartment complexes with rocks merging into cars and clear skies darkened with a thin, milky layer of pollution that wasn’t as evident to the human eyes. 

Lovely New York. And waiting at the center of the very heart of their city, was a traffic jam. 

He understood Happy’s reasonings for the threat, appreciated that someone else- someone other than him, cared enough about Tony to seek out the person capable of their happiness, and threatening them into submission otherwise the promise of pain waited on the other side. He just wondered if someone cared about him enough to do the same, if Tony has been fed the big brother or sister speech and promised pain or threatened with death in the event of him hurting Peter, and he realized belated how silly that was. 

How silly of an idea it was- an image painted in his head, of Tony freaking Stark being scolded and threatened over him. It would never happen. 

“Oh Happy,” May tsked as she fondly swatted at his chest, the roll of her eyes evident even if Peter couldn’t see more than the back of her head. “Leave the poor boy alone- if anything, you should be threatening your friend. He’s the playboy, after all. Taking advantage of my little baby,” she cooed, faux fondness quickly turning into the actual emotion as she leaned over the center console and pinched Peter’s cheek softly.

His heart swelled, and without a second thought he was nuzzling into the embrace and closing his eyes for a second. Just one second; offering him the chance to bask in the feeling of being the center of May’s attention after being deprived of it for years. 

“He’s a teddy bear- he won’t hurt anything,” she whispered to him, loud enough Happy could still hear which he was sure she intended, if the wink she threw her husband was anything to judge by as she pulled back from her crouch over the seat and left Peter’s cheek cold and vacant with the ghost of her fingers brushing across his cheek. 

Reminding him of when he was a child; how both her and Ben would lay with him in his bed, Ben reading him stories for distraction and being the vocal comfort while May offered the physical comfort as she brushed the tears off his cheeks. Knowing without being told he was crying over a loss they couldn’t possibly understand, yet never forcing him to talk about it. Instead, they just silently waited for him to come to them when he was ready. Standing guard as he slept, and fighting off the imaginary monsters he cried over at night. 

They would forever be his most favorite heroes; lack of superpowers irrelevant. 

Peter’s phone vibrated in his hand, sending a warning trickling across his fingernails and up his arm. Letting him know, without actually checking, who was texting him. He was hesitant to check his phone, afraid his face, which was visible to May’s prying eyes in the rear view mirror, would give too much away. He wasn’t ready to indulge May with an in-depth discussion of his relationship with Tony, not yet anyway. 

_ Just remember who you have to answer to when you get home. I am many things, but forgiving is not one.  _

Eyebrows jumping up to hide beneath his fringe as his tongue traced his bottom lip before his teeth dug into the soft flesh, Peter wiggled down a little further in his seat to relieve the pressure on his spine. 

_ Forgive me for what?  _

He sent, heart jackrabbiting in his chest at all the possible answers. Tony could be upset with him for leaving without saying goodbye, or not allowing Tony a chance to talk with May or- worse, one of his oldest and most reliable employees/friends. 

_ Nothing yet. _

The first response said, followed shortly after with; 

_ All I’m saying is keep that in mind before you attempt to do any heroic stunts out there. You see a bad guy, turn and run in the opposite direction. Don’t even try to help an elderly woman cross the street, Peter- I swear to god.  _

Peter cupped a hand over his face to feign a yawn when he was really trying to keep some animosity and was hiding a smile. 

_ Not even for a churro? _

He was taunting Tony now, egging him on because he was -arguably- safely miles away from the man and nothing could be done to him, nobody could stop him or warn him not to. 

_ Especially not for a churro, Peter. The last thing you need is a diabetes stick from a street cart that probably has twelve different diseases manifesting on it after being handled by hands that have touched god knows what.  _

_ I have a great metabolism though, Peter sent, No getting sick for me, remember?  _

_ Maybe not for you, but can you say our child has the same luxuries?  _

He froze at that, caught like a deer in headlights with his teeth clamped tightly around his bottom lip and his eyes wide. He was simply trying to tease Tony and the man had to throw the darkness into the light, remind Peter so much more was at stake out in the world today than just his own life. One wrong move and he could ruin everything; everything. And he was partially grateful to have the cold, sharp stinging slap of reality right now, then when he actually began to enjoy himself. Then, he’d have to contend with the guilt of not being extremely vigilant. 

Tony must have taken his silence as a response, because before Peter could adjust to the shock, with a hand now laid protectively beneath the curve of his belly button, his phone was dinging again. 

_ Stay safe, Pete. That’s all I’m asking. No Itsy-Bitsying tonight. But have fun, alright? Don’t let little old me ruin your day trip with my tendency to over worry. Btw, tell Aunt Hottie I said hi. ;)  _

Peter laughed, short and wheezed, a barely breath through his nose and shook his head as he tried willing his erratically beating heart to slow down. He was fine- the baby was fine. Nothing was out here, nothing could hurt them. Tony was a protector; a worry wart who, to a bit more excessive length than Peter, would do anything to protect the ones he loved and Peter understood that. To a length and depth that no one other than a person in their position could. Death was common; accepted. It was much more expected to lose a friend by the years end than to see them on their next birthday and they understood tomorrow was never promised. Tony most of all. 

That cave had changed him, allegedly. Peter believed the person that had been carved from Tonys previous carcass in that cave, had always been there- simply laying dormant because he had an image to uphold, a father who even in death was far more persuasive and dominating to allow a moment's hesitation or weakness to crack the facade of a naturally broken man who just craved acceptance and a place of balance where he felt he excelled without contending with the shadow of his father that was cast across the earth. 

Howard was a legend; never to be forgotten and always to be remembered for the imprint he left on the earth, all the good he’d done and all he’d helped conquer. Tony was challenged- given the quest of becoming his father and in the process of fulfilling that objective, he’d stumbled along the way and got lost in his fathers destiny. He believed he too was supposed to supply the world with weapons, only he never understood the depth of his own destiny. Of the maps the divinity had laid out before him. 

The dessert was the speed bump along his road of reckless behavior. He’d stumbled in the dirt, was drug from the billowing flames of his fathers destruction, and rose from the ashes as nothing more than a terrified man confronted with his own mortality and the truth of what destruction his creations had created. 

He couldn’t turn and run, so he became what he had with nothing more than scraps of metal. Facing the worlds deadliest villains while also battling his own inner demons. Self criticism warring with the words of others and his own actions and he believed he could never be good. Pepper had tried and failed to show him that that was false; that he was good. That despite who he’d been bred from, death didn’t need to be the main outcome of his greatest creations. That his achievements could be celebrated by millions rather than tore apart and dissected by the public’s eye so they could once agin brand him with the title as the world's deadliest human; the merchant of death. 

Then again, Peter had no right to claim he knew anything of Tony prior to twenty fifteen; extending behind the initial meeting when he’d webbed Tony’s hand to the door and saw in the reflection of his tired eyes, the pain and betrayal he was desperately trying to battle and keep at bay. He saw a man with so much hope but so little optimism. He wanted for a better world, hoped for it, but knew he could never deliver it. Not with the way he was going- with the person he was. 

He knew Tony when he was most conflicted between making the world great again, and wanting to retire and leave the rubble to the rest of the world. Allowing them to rebuild it like a LEGO model and do with it as they will. 

He didn’t know it Tony had truly been different back then; if his carelessness truly did cascade off his wandering hands as they grazed the most forbidden fruits, dancing along the curves of the most tempting temptations, before he settled on a drunken sway before a crowd of people as he danced in an iron man suit for his birthday. Of course, Peter now understood the reason for that big bash was because he believed he was dying and had wanted to go out with a flare. 

He just knew he refused to believe Tony was any less of a man then, than he is now. That although something pushed him to do good, didn’t mean that that good had been forged along with his first ever iron man suit. It had always been there and it seems that wasn’t evident in the eyes of the world. They only choose to see anyone for their mistakes.

The world was caving in on itself and rather than focusing on his resurrection and rebuilding the life he thought to be lost permanently, Tony was desperately trying to rebuild the planet. Piece together that LEGO set he’d left for them but they neglected. 

He’d saved the world. He brought back the dead and neglected his health and family in the process. Why wouldn’t he again? 

Would he, again? Would he abandon Peter and their baby if it meant protecting or saving the world? Would he grow bored of a mundane life and demand he leave the comfort of domesticity and return to the party life where he thrived? 

In a quickly spiraling thought process of self sabotaging thoughts, Peter shifted forward in his seat and pressed his forehead against the glass in an effort to tame his thoughts and return them to a land of tranquil peace. 

He reread Tony’s text, and imagined the grin the man was bound to sport as he typed it out; the shit eating grin he always got when he was intentionally and harmlessly jabbing Peter just to make his jealousy feathers ruffle.

And it was with that thought, that he vaguely wondered if Pepper had been put through the same precautions as he was. If she’d been locked down and kept at home, or if she was given her freedom and allowed to explore without the worry of a sentinel trailing only feet behind her. He knew Tony was a bit of a worrier, but Pepper was head strong. She was the ceo of a billion-dollar company, and surely not even Tony Stark had the power to dictate her life. 

Did that make Peter weak? That he allowed Tony so much say with little fight? Or was he smart, because he was breathing the same air of caution and taking the necessary steps at ensuring him and his child were kept safe? 

Yet again, at the quick declining of his thoughts into dangerous territories for the second time in the short span of five seconds, Peter slouched against the door and glanced out his window in time to see children racing through the streets on their way home from school, their smiles and giggles enough to keep him in safe terrains for a few minutes longer. 

“What are we doing, anyway?” he asked, picking at the seam of the door, just below the frame of the window, creating a feathered array of frayed strings he’d pulled loose in the brand new, previously un-damaged car. He’d been given no insight to the plans for today, had just been invited out and he’d jumped at the opportunity. He was too eager and refused to let the opportunity pass him up, even if it was something as simple as spending the day at May’s. 

With a mischievous smile May threw over her shoulder, she waggled her eyebrows. “Guess you’ll just have to see, won’t you, spider-man?” She said, and the look that followed was not at all comforting. 

~~~

Peter was given a disguise; a ratty old hoodie with a beanie and thick sunglasses he was sure belonged to May’s angsty nineties wardrobe. He could see next to nothing through the tinted lenses, had solely relied on the guidance of May and Happy as they bounced from the closest cafe to a mall just for some quick window shopping that turned into a full blown shopping spree and as they were finishing up their last stop in the mall, at a maternity shop, Happy was taking May’s bags to the car and pulling it up to the curb so neither Peter nor May had to walk across the parking lot. 

“Will he be special, too?” May asked Peter, a little quietly as it contended with the stomping feet and yelling children whose voices echoed throughout the mall and swallowed the soft woman’s voice. Still, he could hear the fear; feel her anxiety. 

They were walking side by side, Peter’s stomach hidden beneath the hoodie which looked absolutely ridiculous on him but thoroughly hid the evidence of his baby-bump. “I don’t know,” he whispered honestly, fighting the urge to drape an arm across his stomach. He instead focused on the bags he was carrying, a few small things he’d found that he thought was cute. Some included a few maternity outfits, one was a onesie he’d gotten for Tony because he thought the man would like it- trying his damndest to ignore that this was the first thing that had been bought for the child. 

They were extremely unprepared, but still had months to go so Peter wasn’t worried. He was proud, however, proud that he’d used his own money to purchase the baby’s outfit. Proud that he didn’t have to rely on Tony. That feeling was almost enough to mask the anxiety that welled in his chest at May’s question. 

Almost. 

“I don’t know,” he repeated again, a little helpless as he lifted his shoulder in a pitiful shrug. He didn’t know if his baby would be special. If he would be born with powers, the same gifts as Peter, or if he would be born human. They had no idea if his spider-genetics even worked like that, could be passed down from generation to generation. And the only way to find out now were through some extremely dangerous and invasive procedures Banner said would likely end with premature birth. Which, both Peter and Tony declined. 

They would rather not know, and wait, than have their child killed just because they were scared. Terrified of the power their child could potentially hold and the danger that would follow once his arrival reached the intergalactic alien radars. 

May nodded, understanding, and laced their hands together. “It’ll be fine,” she said, being every bit of a mother as she’d always been to him; her smile enough to dab at the edges of his anxiety and dampen it with a warmth only she was capable of harboring. “Human, superhuman, alien- whatever he comes out as, he will be loved.” 

Peter smiled. Finally something he knew to be true, something he had complete power over. Regardless of others personal feelings towards his baby, he was smitten to him, knew he would be loved and well taken care of. “I know,” he breathed out, eyes glued to the hidden swell of his stomach he’d grown quite fond of seeing despite how unattractive he was sure it made him. 

May didn’t say anything, didn’t need to, just held Peter’s hand a little tighter and offered him that silent comfort as they finished their little walk across the mall. 

“I have a surprise for you,” she finally admitted, smile once again mischievous as she opened the car door for him. 

Right eyebrow inclining, Peter honestly debated on getting into the car before his feet, quite ornerily, sent sharp pains shooting up his calves and with a cramp quickly approaching, he relented and climbed in. “And what might that be?” He asked, setting his bags on the seat next to him before he immediately began to rub at the back of his leg. 

“You suck at surprises,” May whined, glaring start him through his door before she closed it. 

“Thanks,” Peter chirped with a quirky grin, “I get it from my aunt who once clocked her husband in the face during a surprise birthday party.” 

Which, true. Peter had been ten, and Ben had insisted on doing a surprise party for May even though she hated surprises and insisted they do nothing. When she walked into the house, Ben had turned the light on a second too late and ended up with a black eye with the other guests standing feet behind him, shocked, mid yell, with wide eyes. May had apologized so much Peter had been surprised her voice hadn’t gone raspy, and he honestly can say he’s never laughed so much. 

May gasped. “I can’t believe you would use that against me!” She turned to look at him from her seat, hurt evident on her face but overpowered with determination. “That hardly counts- your uncle shouldn’t have been hiding in the dark around the corner. He was asking for a good slap around.” 

Peter tried to keep his expression neutral, but all it took was one crooked smile from May, with her eyes crossed and her tongue out, and he was dissolving into a puddle of giggles with May following right behind him. “He wouldn’t leave any of the lights off after that!” Peter said through his laughter, the crunch of his stomach working every single muscle possible and he was absolutely positive he’d pulled at least three he previously didn’t even know existed. 

“He never said so, but for a month after every time I went to touch him he would hold his head out of my reach. I think I scared him,” May added, which just further filled their laughing session. 

“Remember-“ Peter began, but was interrupted by Happy. 

“As much as I enjoy listening to you two wackadoodles spill the beans on your domestic abuse, we’re here,” Happy said, eyebrows raised in feigned annoyance but amusement hidden behind the sparkle of his eyes as he watched May. 

Peter inhaled deeply and wiped at his eyes to glance out his window and saw the familiar steps of his aunts apartment building. His heart swelled with something, nostalgia maybe. He hasn’t been here, in his right mind, since before the snap. 

The memories this place held were so far out of reach it seemed like another lifetime. He’d first met Tony here, just rooms above where they sat right now, and that didn’t seem like that had taken place on this earth. It felt like a dream, hidden behind a milky haze that was impenetrable. 

Refusing him the chance to remember how he felt the last time he was walking up these stairs, how weightless his bounding steps were; how carefree and young he was. Oblivious, even, to his own ignorance. 

He pressed a hand against the side of his stomach for pressure when the baby kicked particularly hard in that spot, and silently wished more than anything that Tony were here right now. He somehow got the baby to calm down, no matter the time. One touch, and it was like he somehow knew that it was Tony touching him; that he was safe in those hands that had saved the literal universe and had been stitched back together from nothing. 

Exhaling a deep breath, Peter left his bags in the back seat and climbed out of the car. “Quiet night in?” He teased May, taking the hand she offered him because as stubborn as he was, May met him ten fold and he wasn’t looking to argue with her in the middle of the street when he was trying to remain under the radar. 

People passing glanced their way but offered no more than a glance, assuming the tattered bum was just that- a bum. Clinging to the infamous May Hogan- aunt to Spider-Man and wife to Happy Hogan, Tony Stark’s best friend. To some, she was a lucky fool. To others, she was one of the most powerful and protected women in the world. 

Peter wasn’t sure which he agreed with more. 

Whichever, nobody dared touch her. And for that, he was grateful. 

May shrugged. “I suppose,” she said, but the purse of her lips was evidence of her obvious lie though it was hidden beneath a little truth. “You’ll just have to see,” 

Happy led the way, and Peter groaned the entire way as he walked up each and every flight of stairs. Living in the tower had one major advantage; it was all high tech which meant elevators that took seconds to get you where you needed to go and it was minimal walking requires. He obviously knew his sudden decrease in physical activity wasn’t necessarily good, but he couldn’t fight it. His ankles hurt, half of his body was swollen and he had a literal watermelon protruding off the front of his body that was so much weight dragging him forward. 

He just hated how miserable he was when doing anything active. 

He was out of breath once they reached the top, a slight trickle of sweat forming at the corner of his brow and he subtly wiped it off as he schooled his breathing to try and hide the fact from May and Happy that he was literally fighting for his life after walking a few simple flight of stairs. 

He was envious of his aunt as she talked a million miles an hour, not at all affected by the stairs she’d just hiked- not even a hitch of breath. She kept rambling on and on about work and how business had boomed since he’d come out as Spider-Man and how she was requested to take photos and sign autographs daily- apparently she wasn’t bothered in the slightest. Everyone in the cafe asked questions about him as a child, apparently, and she promised that although she’d been tempted, she didn’t show them the photo tucked away in her wallet of him as a toddler with a pair of bugs bunny underwear pulled tight over his curls as he rocked a pair of pink high heels he’d stolen from his moms closet with purple lipstick smeared across his lips, mascara across his eyes in black smudges, and necklaces dangling from his neck and presented across his bare chest. 

He’d taken to cross dressing as a child, and May had a whole album she liked to use against him but he honestly knew she didn’t do it to embarrass him. They were the last memories he had with his parents, and she wanted to keep them fresh and alive. Give him all she could without merging her own memories with his. 

“Do not show anyone that photo,” Peter said, nose scrunched in disapproval when he reached her door and turned the knob only to find it was locked. Slipping to the side, he allowed May room to step forward and slide her key into the deadbolt, the resounding click of the lock sliding back into the door making his entire body sag with relief. “Especially Tony- he would demand a copy and take it a step too far and I would never not see it. He’d have it plastered across cakes, blankets, blimps and even an Ironman suit if given the freedom and opportunity,” Peter said with a grimace as he swung the door open. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I most certainly would interpret it into the suit in anyway that I could,” a voice chimed in agreement, and Peter choked on his breath when he looked up and saw Tony leaning causally against the wall in the entryway, blocking his view and entrance, fingers lifted close to his face like he was studying them when Peter knew he was trying way too hard to be casual and the slight ruffle of his breathing was evidence that he’d just barely positioned himself before they opened the door- he had possibly just gotten here. 

And with this distraction, he didn’t notice the noises coming from the living room. “What are you doing here?” peter asked, a little shocked- heavily accusing, “you didn’t follow us, did you? Tony, I swear to god if you-“ 

“Calm down, short stuff. I stayed home, scouts honor,” he lifted a finger to his brow, and Peter felt the urge to remind him he didn’t go to scouts when his nose suddenly caught a whiff of something sweet and— not spicy, but there was definitely a spice. 

A churro. 

Attempting to peak around Tony’s shoulder, Peter took a step forward and huffed in annoyance when every effort he made was blocked. “Tony, move before I move you.” 

He didn’t bother asking how Tony knew when they would be here and why the man smelt like motor oil but looked freshly showered- okay, that answer was obvious. Tony probably got a workout in with Natasha, showered, then went back to work in the lab simply because he couldn’t help himself. The answer to the second was obvious and with narrowing eyes, he turned to face May. 

“I’ll deal with you later but for now, I’d suggest talking your new best friend into moving before I-“ 

“Let’s not let Peter finish that threat,” a painfully familiar voice said that he Peters stomach swooping, “it can get detailed and gruesome and I don’t want Tony to have that visual in his head when the little monster curls up in bed with him tonight.” 

Whipping around, Peters wide eyes landed not on Tony, but Mj. She stood where Tony had previously, her long hair left in cascading curls down her back with a spaghetti strapped maroon dress accenting her olive skin tone, the tight fitting material forming to compliment her curves and he hated how elegant and mature she looked now, standing in a living room where she last stood, in his memory, wearing fuzzy pajamas with her hair hidden in buns and a licorice dangling between her lips. 

She wasn’t a fifteen year old, he was reminded when she smiled for the first time in what felt like years and he could see genuine happiness in it and not just mild enjoyment from another’s pain. 

He forgot that she didn’t know about his pregnancy- that he essentially looked like a fucking bum right now even though he’d ditched the beanie and sunglasses in the car, and launched himself in her arms and allowed the thin limbs to wrap around his body and just hold him together in a way nobody else could. Tony knew his body, but Maryjane knew him and it was only with the intimate knowledge she harbored of him that she was aware of exactly what was swirling viciously in his mind like a tsunami and with a watery laugh, MJ was running shaking hands through his hair. 

“I’m real, I’m here, Pete. Nice to see you ditched the Venom dude, though. He was a real prick,” she whispered in his ear, the raspy hitch of her voice the only telltale sign that she was as affected as he was. He hasn’t seen her, in his right mind, for years. Their last interaction was awful and needed to be erased from the books and he couldn’t remember when someone hugged him like this and he didn’t feel so fucking suffocated. 

Right now, he felt like a teenager with all his problems melting away and all that mattered was asking someone to the school dance. 

“Yeah he was,” Peter said, sniffling as he giggle wetly against Mjs neck. Apologizing for getting teary eyed, he pulled back to smile up at her, the warmth in his heart spreading like a wildfire to encompass his body in a warmth that touched every single inch of skin. 

“I-“ he began to say, only to notice a blur of something behind MJs shoulder. Without saying anything, she stepped away from him but kept a hand on his forearm, and he was greeted with a living room full of people. 

“Now, before you get upset, this was all May’s idea. And if you don’t get upset then, well, drape boy and I would very much appreciate acknowledgement and credit for our hard work,” Tony said from his place now leaning against the kitchen counter, and Peter was about to ask who he was referring to until he saw Thor sitting on the couch next to Banner and Natasha, his entire cramped, childhood living room completely full of all his childhood idols and hero’s. 

He gaped. “W-What the fuck?” 

Lifting a glass to his lips, Tony took a sip, sucked on his teeth then pushed up off the counter with a grin. “Oh yeah,” he said with a wave of his hand, “happy baby shower, baby,” 

“Ew, Tony, could you not?” Natasha asked with a nose wrinkled in disgust, feigned but convincing. 

Scoffing, Tony turned to her. “Oh, I’m sorry little miss cold heart. Are my names of endearment too sappy for you? Would you rather I call him something a little less repulsive?” He turned to Peter, sarcasm heavy in his voice and movements, “how are you, my cute little hobo? You look awfully sexy for a bum in rags- is that better, princess? More age appropriate?” 

Natasha scoffed and rolled her eyes while there was a chorus of laughs shared around the room, all the while Peter was still frozen in place as he tried to process through the shock and realize what was going on here. 

“B-Baby shower?” He asked. 

“Yes, honey, baby shower. We even got you some churros- Tony insisted.” May said, waving towards a table Peter just now realized was set up in the kitchen that was completely full of an assortment of foods- mostly sweets, while the kitchen counter had an array of different salads and sandwiches and stuff. 

Tony shot Peter a cocky grin and winked. “Only I handled these,” he said, referring to their earlier conversation and Peter wiped at his still watering eyes and took a step forward to really get a chance to see and appreciate the room. There was a few decorations hanging up, a banner dangling from the ceiling with steamers and balloons floating around the room. There wasn’t a set color theme, just mainly blue and white with a splash of pink and purple to keep it gender neutral without knowing the actual gender. 

Then, set up in the middle of the living room was a small table stacked with gifts. 

He took it all in, allowed it to digest, before he realized a specific someone in this room shouldn’t even be aware of his pregnancy. Turning to face MJ once more, the woman’s lips curled in a little half smile and she shrugged, almost as if in answer to a question he never asked- somehow observing his stature and facial expressions and knowing what he was thinking without bothering to ask. Somehow proving time was invalid even in its attempts at erasing her knowledge on the boy who wasn’t a boy anymore. 

“I was filled in when you came up missing,” MJ said in explanation, settling on perching on one of the bar stools with her high heeled shoes hooked over the lower metal bar- Tony flanked on her right with a glass of vibrant red punch still being nursed in his hand. Peter wondered if it was spiked or not. “I’ve been waiting for the phone call from you but-“ she shrugged, leaving the rest unsaid and she had every right to sound hurt, she did, but Peter couldn’t help but feel he had every right to not tell her, too. She may be one of his only friends, and he may have been close to her but he hardly knew this woman. Their friendship felt like an entire lifetime ago, yet still so fresh. He knew her, but he didn’t. 

He knew next to nothing of this world and spilling his biggest secret to those who were essentially strangers wasn’t exactly something he was rushing to do. 

“I-“ 

“Owe no explanation to anyone,” MJ conceded, hands raised in surrender with a gentle smile pulling at her lips. “Believe me, Pete, I wasn’t guilt tripping you. Just letting you know my phone still works, if you ever get lonely or bored.” 

He filed that information away for later, and nodded gratefully. “Thank you,” he breathed out. 

Turning his attention back to the room full of people who were apparently his guests, he took in all the familiar faces and frowned when he didn’t see Morgan or Pepper. 

Without voicing his disappointment, figuring they were busy with other things, Peter took a waddling step forward and grinned when Tony rushed to his side with a rolling chair primed and ready, gently helping to guide him back into the seat before he stood protectively behind it with a possessive hand laid on Peters shoulder. 

He wasn’t sure how, but he forgot the sliver of betrayal he felt from May for disclosing their location and feeding into Tony's antics of hosting a baby shower, and instead focused on his guests. The baby shower was actually interesting, and as they jumped from game to game-Peter always ending each game in a puddle of tears and giggles because Thor would miss the entire concept of the game then throw a fit each time when he didn’t win- he was, “the god of thunder! Puny humans were no match for him,”. 

The fifth and last game was just drawing to a close, with Thor winning the race as he power sucked the blue gatorade out of the bottle, when Peters spider senses suddenly went on the fritz. Every hair on his body stood to alert as sharp and fast tingles raced up his spine and jabbed unrelenting at the base of his skull- demanding his immediate attention. 

He had just enough time to spin in his chair, in search of the cause, when the door was swinging open. He jumped to his feet, webs primed and ready, when Pepper walked in with Morgan trailing behind her. “Woah- Pete, calm down. It’s just me,” she said, hands raised as she fought back to quiver of fear evident in her voice. Stumbling a step back, she looked to the other guests for help when Peter made no sign to move. 

Something wasn’t right, something was going to happen and he could feel it—

“Oh, everyone, this is Michael. I’ve been meaning to introduce you all, seeing as he spends a majority of his time with Morgan and I feel any caretaker of hers deserves all of your approval,” Pepper said, still unmoving but not frozen as she gestured towards the figure stepping into the room with a bright blue box held beneath his arm. 

The man had light blonde hair that brushed to tips of his ears, Sandy at the roots with deep emerald green eyes and a defined square jaw. He was familiar, especially in the way he held himself; the way he blinked in surprise at all the feces before his eyes immediately settled on Peter and he grinned. 

It was then that Peter knew what was wrong. Or rather who. “Hello, everyone. I’m Morgan’s in-home Nanny. Pleasure to meet earths mightiest heroes,” 

And when he spoke, it only amplified Peters already spritzing senses and with an explosion of alarming red, he was whipping around, hoping Tony saw and felt what he felt- that behind the charming exterior and warm smile was something dark and decrypt, predatory and dangerous. 

But his search was empty because Tony was staring at the man- smiling the tiniest of smiles and Peter knew he was being conned into believing the facade this man wore. He was being played. 

“You must be Peter,” the man said, and Peter shook his head clear of the disbelief, the feeling of betrayal that was thick and swarming in the must vulnerable parts of his heart, in time to register the advancing footsteps the man was taking towards him. Rooting himself in place, he fought the urge to tuck tail and run; to protect his child from the unseen threat, and lifted his chin in defiance when the man stopped before him. “And this must be the infamous baby. I’ve heard so much about you both- you must have so many plans for the baby,” 

The words were said different; wrong. A threat skirting them, underlying each syllable with a promise prominent in the deep boom of his voice and Peter took a instinctive step back. This man wasn’t... right. There was something curdling in his blood, making his very scent bitter and burnt as it swirled like a pungent perfume up Peters nose and clouded his lungs with the undeniable truth of doom. 

He could feel it, the heaviness in the air, awaiting with bated breath until that feather finally became weightless and was allowed to drift to the ground rather than being held motionless and captive in the sticky air breathed from this mans mouth as he once again crowded Peters space. 

Taking pity, the man seemed to sense Peter’s silence was simply only in favor of focusing on nothing that seemed particularly interesting rather than just pure ignorance, and he plucked that feather from the air as he curled his lips back to bare his white teeth. “I’m great with kids,” he whispered, harmlessly to others but there was something there in his eyes that Peter saw and the man swooped down low enough they were eye level, his chapped lips inches from Peters ear with his hot breath a ghost on his exposed neck. “Ask Morgan. We have a lot of fun time together,” 

This time his gut twisted at the clear warning in Michael's words, his body refusing to be ignored and Peter hunched forward with a hand braced beneath his stomach, breathless. 

“Alright, party times over. Looks like the little hobo has over estimated himself today and exerted his body.” Tony said, and Peter was grateful that the man followed his words with a gentle hand caressing the back of Peters head, brushing through the dampened curls at the nape of his neck and it was pathetic how tame his body became from a simple touch; how pathetically well it listened to Tony’s gentle caresses and became pliant beneath hands that didn’t ask for such a reaction. 

However, he didn’t express that and instead leaned heavily into Tony’s body. “No, Tony, come on. He just got here. Sit, sit! Once he gets off his feet and eats something he’ll be fine,” May said, insistent as she pushed the rolling chair towards them and Peter opened his mouth to protest, a slight trickle of uncomfortableness still contending with the warmth of Tony’s touch as it buzzed alarmingly beneath his skin. 

“I don-“ 

“No, uh-uh. No excuses. You’re forgetting who pulls rank here. You may be a bunch of super heroes out there, but you’re under my roof right now and that means I’m the boss. So sit, open presents, eat food and mingle. You’re locked up in that tower too long and I’m beginning to think that’s not entirely just Tony’s doing,” 

May raised a knowing eyebrow, eyes flickering between their body like she was searching for the space between them that didn’t exist. They were connected together, perfectly aligned to create zero space between them; forming a connection that was hard to distinguish where Peter’s limbs began and where Tony’s ended. 

Giving the illusion that they were one; formed as one, speaking as one, leaving as one. And perhaps Peter had programmed Tony that way? Making him fall in love with him; melt into him like crayons left on the sidewalk in the hot sun. In a twirl of blue and a clash of gold, their colors were merging to create a symphony of colors all existing to tell the story they’d left sprawled out before them for all to see. 

And now that they knew what to look for, they couldn’t see anything but. They couldn’t look away as Tony clasped a hand around Peters hip and drew him in, pressing his pink lips to the crown of his head to erase May’s observation in a futile attempt at stacking a claim everyone knew he already had. Erasing the idea that Peter was hiding away from the world. 

“Untrue- he always attempts to leave. I just never let him,” Tony said nonchalantly, like it meant nothing when everyone who wasn’t in this room would take it as a possible case of Stockholm syndrome and light kidnapping. The headlines would read something dramatic and stretched, painting Tony as the monster. 

** _Sadistic Mentor abuses power and social standing to kidnap young protege and hold him against his will during his fragile state of mind after end of the world catastrophe. _ **

Which wasn’t true. Peter knew he could leave if he wanted to. Tony couldn’t keep him against his will and literally restrain him without using supernatural means or something of superior strength and means. The tower obviously had the necessary equipment to contain him, but he also knew they would never be used against him unless he turned into Venom once again. 

It was an unlikely chance, given his emotions stay as consistent and steady as they could with no sudden spike to upset him further than a mild disagreement. Venom came with a flurry of emotions he couldn’t control; a feeling of being lost and out of control and now he’s found the footing he’d been missing then. Becoming one of New York’s most out of control monster was on the back of his list of worries. 

“Which is probably safer for him and the baby,” a voice spoke up, and Tony noticed now exactly what was wrong with Peter when the boy went completely stiff in his arms and turned his head to look at the intruded who stood guard at the entrance of the door, attempting to blend in and appear as if he belonged when he stuck out like a sore thumb with ripped carpet lapping at the toes of his shoes. 

He turned to look at him, eyebrows furrowed, and Peter shook his head. 

“What’s good for him and the baby is exercise and the chance to build up a strong immune system. Staying locked up in that too-sterile tower has probably done a number on his body,” May said, folding a towel before she draped it over her arm and cocked a hip to rest it against the edge of the counter. Abandoning the food she’d been preparing to unlid and help dish up, apparently, as she eyed the man. 

Peter knew from the way she watched him, eyeing him up and down with an eyebrow disappearing beneath her hair, that he wasn’t solo in the way he felt; that someone else felt the warning curdling in their stomach as Michael’s voice crept up their spine and danced around their eardrums. 

Michael apparently didn’t catch May’s tone of voice, the one begging for an argument, because in response to her stare he sized her up and spread his legs. “There’s a lot of creeps out in the world,” he said, his pink tongue darting out to trace the curve of his unnatural smile- almost as if to say he was one of the creeps; standing before them, hidden in plain sight but unseen and he knew he’d never be caught. “He’s already been taken once, what’s stopping them from taking him again? They’re aware of his unique situation. The tower is the safest place for him, wouldn’t you agree? Being surrounded by all these…” he cut off to gesture around him, at all the people who sat still and unsure of what to say or do. 

“What makes him so safe there,” May cut him off before he could finish, and the slight rise in her tone of voice had Peter fidgeting in his stance as he attempted to fight off the urge to tuck tail and run as traumatic experiences from his childhood rose to his memories. “Regardless of the people living there or the technology protecting it, it hasn’t stopped people from entering when they please in the past. Now, I’m not discrediting their dedication to protecting Peter’s life but I am questioning the size of your brain. I made a joke to my nephew, one that had no invitation for comments made from any bystanders who hold no relevance in his life-“ 

But before she could finish the rant Peter was rooting for, she cut off suddenly, back going straight and eyes dilating and began to laugh hysterically as she doubled over- her brown hair falling to create curtains over her face to obscure his vision on what had just seconds ago been a blank slate- an emotionless stare. Almost as if she didn’t recognize where she was, or who she even was. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t. Did you see his face? He looked absolutely terrified,” she said between her breathless giggles, voice high pitched and breathy with giggles still skipping along her teeth, but it sounded so very wrong. Forced. Robotic, almost. A machine-like quality wrapping around her vocal chords. 

Puzzled, Peter turned to look up at Tony who was doing his own little soft smile, the most anyone would get out of him unless it was Peter or Morgan making an attempt or he was laughing to be mocking or spiteful, and everyone in the room was joining in on the laughter. It was like a group effort; laughing in unison. A cult who couldn’t move without being mirrored by a hundred other people. 

Casually throwing in observations they’d made on how michaels face contorted to fear the exact moment May’s voice rose even the slightest bit in volume, or how he took a step back for every word she spoke until he was pressed flush against the door with the handle digging into his lower spine and Peter honestly couldn’t see how he was the only one who saw how incredibly poor of an actor he was. How this was a show and he was the main attraction, drawing attention to himself and bathing in the glory of their undiluted fascination even if it wasn’t genuine interest. 

Feigned fear was chased from the depth of his eyes and he winked at Peter. “You had me,” he told May, returning to stand where he’d previously been and Peter turned to Nat, hopeful she too had caught whiff of something being wrong but she too was smiling. 

In fact, everyone here was either smiling or still laughing, drawing out the joke for longer than was necessary. Confused, Peter rocked back on his heels to peek behind Thor’s shoulder and saw Bruce was laughing as well, huddled too close to Nat to be considered normal considering they’d both refused to acknowledge their emotions with physical contact since they’d began whatever it was that was going on between them. An unspoken agreement of attraction and fondness. 

It was… odd. In an unsettling way. And now that he was focused on it, he could almost feel it. The alluring pulses of soothing energy rolling throughout the room, attempting to dominate every emotion currently suffocating the tiny apartment with happiness and joy. It was erasing those emotions, dividing them to place a claim and pry beneath the skin of all the people here who were possible subjects to the call. Who’s minds were fragile and susceptible to such a temptation. 

He could feel it brushing along his own skin, attempting to pry beneath it and take advantage but it was no more than a ghost of a breath. Somehow unable to penetrate his body and claim it for its own. 

Though he was certain he was imagining it. He had to be, with no logical explanation being offered or real proof as to what he swears he was watching and feeling. 

Still, he felt left out, like he was missing something that was obvious and suddenly, the uncomfortableness increased ten fold and he stood up on his tippy toes to drag his nose up the length of Tony’s neck, hand cupped over his shoulder to drag the man down to his height. No longer able to ignore it. “Let’s go home?” He asked, lips brushing the smooth curve of Tony’s earlobe, hopeful he could convince Tony to do as he wanted with very minimal effort. “I have a few surprises for you.” 

Tony made an intrigued sound, eyebrow cocking as he moved back far enough to look down at Peter. 

Peter must have just imagined it, but the second their eyes locked Tony’s seemed to become so much… clearer. Like a milky layer had been peeled off his orb, leaving his gaze untinted when it had previously been hazy and cloudy. 

“I wanted to go home hours ago,” Tony admitted in a whisper, clearly joking but it worked and Peter cracked a smile. 

“You get to tell May,” he said. 

Tony mock saluted him and pulled back, not before pressing a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “If I’m not back before sunset, send off a pigeon with my will.” 

“A sentinel would guarantee a safe delivery,” 

Tony laughed, Peter noted smugly and allowed the sound to wrap around his heart. “Aunt Hottie-“ he said, pulling away from Peter completely and at the sudden lack of contact, Tony froze, shook his head, turned back to look at Peter with the same milky layer— unrecognition clear as he looked at him over his shoulder— then he shook his head again and when he blinked it was gone. Almost as if it never happened. “I-uh-“ 

And Peter didn’t hear what he said after that- too focused on everyone else to pay attention to whatever excuse Tony was feeding his aunt at the moment. In the smiling eyes surrounding them, he saw what he’d refused to pay attention to before. The glossy, dead look everyone supported; emotionless as they blinked at nothing and sat motionless, almost as if they were waiting for a command. 

Nats head suddenly whipped in Peter’s direction, and her lips curled back over her teeth in a very, very forced grin. Uncharacteristic for her. “I have a present for you,” she said, and even her voice sounded off, “I can tell you’re wanting to leave so I will bring it back to the tower with me.” 

“Uh, sounds good?” 

Alarms were blaring in Peter’s head, and it took every ounce of his body to meld his muscles into steel to keep them from reacting in the only way he knew how; his powers. He wanted to lock everyone in place, keep them from moving, until he could see what the fuck was going on and if this was even real. He wasn’t entirely convinced this wasn’t a dream. 

He looked around him, aware he was in a situation where he was grossly outnumbered, and he lowered his hands he hadn’t realized were primed and ready to web and talked himself off the edge as he slowed his breathing. He was no match for half of these people in here with his current situation. Out of shape or not, he was in a predicament that meant he couldn’t exactly  _ try _ to take them all on without putting his baby in harm's way. 

Tony returned to his side before Peter even realized any time had passed, and he blinked past the surprise. “All good,” Tony said, hand sneaking around his waist.

“Let me- uh. Okay. Let’s go,” 

He tried convincing himself nothing was wrong, that it was all just his mind playing tricks on him because he was overly tired and anxious given his history with new people or just people in general, and leaned his body into Tony’s. 

Subconsciously noticing that the man now seemed to be oddly fine. 

Goodbyes were said, a teary one shared with MJ, with Peter paying special attention to keeping as far away from Michael as he could as he attempted to study the now clear eyes of everyone (what the Fuck?), and it was only when they were walking down the stairs and towards Tony’s car that had miraculously appeared in front of the building even though the man hadn’t lifted a finger beyond when he opened the door, that Peter felt safe enough to say anything; to voice how light headed and dizzy the simple interaction had left him. 

He was confused as to what had just taken place upstairs, as to what he witnessed. 

“There is something wrong with that man,” he said, attempting to keep his voice as casual as he could possibly manage with his every effort still forcing the vocal chords to quiver. “I don’t know what, Tony, and I don’t know how to explain it but your eyes-“ 

“It’s fine, Pete. Morgan is allowed to have other male figures in her life. There’s no reason to be jealous over it. In fact, it’ll probably be good for her. Being around a normal human.” Tony said, cutting him off and Peter groaned in annoyance, not believing how completely wrong Tony was reading the situation. 

“That’s not even-“ 

“Relax, Peter. I wasn’t too happy at first either but she likes him well enough. Pepper trusts him, so I feel we owe it to her to give the man a chance.” 

“But Tony your ey-“ 

“Don’t you get it, Pete? We have virtually no say in who cares for my daughter. Rather than immediately setting him up as the bad guy and loathing him for the rest of existence, let’s see how he does first. Then you can judge him and his character.” 

Spidey senses forgotten, seemingly, Peter scoffed and sat down in his seat with his arms folded across his chest. It didn’t matter what Tony wanted to say, what he believed, Peter always listened to him but Tony wouldn’t offer him the same decency. He couldn’t even speak a word without being cut off; silenced. He couldn’t explain how his spider senses were going haywire simply talking about the man, about what he thought he witnessed back there with everyone’s eyes changing and the odd group laugh session. His feelings were written off as jealousy and ignored and the gift Tony spoke so highly of, was stamped as defective apparently. 

Reading people was his thing, yet Tony seemed to forget that. 

Whatever. If he wanted to ignore what was so blatantly obvious, it was apparently up to Peter to do this alone- to prove to Pepper and Tony how big of a fucking creep this man was, what exactly was wrong with him. A feeling was valid, his gut was valid, and his Spidey-senses have never led him wrong before so he wasn’t about to ignore it. 

Settling on that decision, Peter narrowed his eyes at his reflection in the glass window and closed his eyes. 

He felt as if he was losing everything while gaining sanity and allies from all the most unlikely places, and he knew he couldn’t do this alone even if he was as defiant and stubborn as he wanted to be. He couldn’t leave without being trailed, and he would need someone on the outside who could feed him back information without Tony interfering and believing Peter was doing this behind his back just to spite him. 

The problem was, who did he trust enough not to run directly to Tony and fuck up everything? 

The name came with a flash of black hair and a burst of blue magic, and he grinned with his lips pressed into his shoulder to shield it from Tony’s line of sight. 

The man Tony most hated would suffice. 

Loki; the god of mischief.


	4. Stockholm Syndrome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize I haven’t given Peter much time to shine or truly explain himself, so here it is. A better part of a chapter dedicated to explaining his character and the complexity that surrounds his emotions and thoughts. It gives a slight peek into his life on Thanos’ planet, his past and the inner turmoil he is suffering from as he attempts to heal. I understand it’s a little... off topic, but I promise to return to the plot in the next chapter. This is a little diversion but it is still setting the plot in course. I hope you enjoy. :) 
> 
> I have been away for a while, I realize, but time has slipped away from me and I’ve been regretfully busy! With the new quarantine in effect, I will (hopefully) have more time to write! I hope you all are safe out there, and taking the necessary precautions to ensure your health. Stay safe. 
> 
> Much love, xx 
> 
> (Also, if any of you get bored drop your discord,  
Kik, email, phone number or WhatsApp info down below and we can chat! I would love to talk to you.

Still hiding behind the pretense of a self assured fifteen year old boy, who truly had nothing figured out and was held together by the strings of hope he cradled close to his chest of the future and was shielded by an aura that labeled him as untouchable, Peter stood before the glass door with his heart jack rabbiting behind his rib cage. 

As a child, he could pretend everything would be fine. Aliens didn’t exist- the only place foreign he’d ever been was New Jersey and the loud mouthed, outspoken people who loved partying and spray tans were still considered a part of his  _ normalcy _ that had been shattered the second he was bitten by that radioactive spider. 

Being Spider-Man was his identity; the thing he quickly clung to to make him feel special and unique when, his entire life, he’d battled people who constantly told him otherwise. His big brain would go to waste because he was poor, his quick thinking would prove beneficial for his cashier job at his local fast food restaurant, but he wouldn’t exceed beyond that. He wouldn’t amount to anything,  _ make _ anything of himself. 

He remembers the nights he would sit on the toilet in his bathroom, balled fist caught between his teeth as he sobbed into the flesh to keep the noises down. May has been hurt enough, she didn’t need to know her nephew was broken. Suicidal. So beyond wanting to live he flung himself into dangerous situations just to get himself killed. 

A burglary was taking place a few blocks away, and the men were armed? A doe legged, scrawny little fawn pretending to be something  _ big  _ was immediately on sight and sometimes, if he intentionally dodged the bullets a second too late, nobody would know. Nobody  _ ever _ knew. They didn’t see the teeth marks littering his shirts; hear the screams lodged in the threads sewn and weaved together to tell the tale of his heartache. His over-glorified self punishment. They didn’t see them because behind closed doors, he was digging the bullets and shrapnel out of his skin alone. 

May never saw the bloodied clothes or napkins he bundled up and threw away in the garbage can down the street. She never saw anything beyond his somehow amazing grades and the two people who represented his entire introduction into his wild teenage years. She thought he was  _ fine,  _ happy, even. 

Peter pretended he was, too. 

He would stifle his sobbing into the crook of his arm as he removed his clothes, intentionally ignoring his extra sensitive ribs and purple splotches marking his pale skin, and climbed into the shower. Hoping the falling water could mask his tears and he would eventually forget what he was even crying about. The days Flash was extremely aggressive were the worst. 

The bruises and cracked ribs would heal- even the on the days Flash decided to go a little extra harder- “ _ You beefed up a little bit, Parker. Did your aunt put down the crack pipe and decide to feed your sorry ass? Guess what- she just fucked you over, freak,”  _ apparently he hadn’t hidden the rapid changes on his once gangly body well enough and flash decided that with a little extra meat on his bones, he could withstand a lot more pain. A few more punches; a couple of solid kicks to his cracked ribs. 

It got to the point Peter didn’t even fight back. He would go limp- lifeless, on the cold concrete behind the school and wish life would just end already. That somehow, someway, Flashe’s tiny fist would pack a lot larger punch than the familiar bullet from a handgun. That he would slip in his effort of simply  _ hurting  _ Peter, and let out enough pent up rage he beat him beyond a pulp and his bloodied body could melt into the ground like a cherry slushy spilt on a hot summer day. 

Those days- those dark, depressing days, were quickly thrown into a chest in his mind and forgotten about the second he saw Tony Stark standing in his bedroom. Somehow, seeing his stand before him- “ _ Oh my god it’s you- it’s actually  _ you-“ erased all the words said in the past, present and even the future. His self worth was no longer measured by his peers- his scarless body was a blank canvas awaiting a new story he could write for himself and the onesie he left in his closet was like a monumental moving stone for him. He could start  _ fresh. Be somebody.  _

Mean  _ something.  _

His internship to Stark Industries spread like wildfire, and he was known around his school for being  _ that _ kid who was being picked up daily by an assortment of expensive and extravagant cars. The pitiful looks he once got from his teachers turned into ones of awe and envy; they could no longer claim he  _ would _ be somebody because he was exceeding their pitied lies and actually  _ becoming  _ somebody. Somebody who was respected enough by Tony Stark to be publicly acknowledged as one of his top scientist interns. His name branded by Tony Stark- stamped with his approval and his claim. If anybody heard Peter Parker, Tony’s name was not far behind and it exhilarated Peter to know that to the public, their relationship had been strictly professional. Mentor/protégée. 

Behind closed doors? Still the same guidelines, just a little looser rules. Daytime cuddles and after-battle wound counts weren’t shied away from. Someone was touching him, craving him, and in return allowing him to touch them. In his fifteen year old mind, that was completely fucking with his young and impressionable adolescent mind and he quickly fell in love.

He knew Tony knew, too. 

Then it all… changed. It fell apart just as quickly as it came together. 

One day his biggest worry- his worst memory, was standing on top of the roof as the most powerful man in the entire universe stood before him- chastising him, urging him to argue with an arched brow and a slight tilt of his head upwards. Then, they hadn’t been equals. They hadn’t even been mentor or mentee. They had been their true, original roles. The ones they were born into; Peter the powerless little boy who was a coward and feared everything. Tony a powerful, persuasive man who was far too wealthy and important to waste his time on a pitiful excuse for a man. 

A boy who claimed he was a  _ hero.  _

Him taking away the suit revoked Peter of all his self worth. Of a title he thought deserved because he’d been bitten by some random spider. 

The silence that followed, opened that chest Peter had slammed closed and everything came flooding back. Reminding him he was  _ worthless.  _

He took Liz to homecoming to prove to Tony that he was still  _ wanted.  _

That the suit meant  _ nothing.  _ He was still something without him and his over glorified life. 

Only he realized the fruity perfume and pink stained lips with pale breasts pressed tight against his chest- wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted the promises Tony had fed him night by night, nourishing his broken mind and healing his tattered heart word by word. Carefully articulated promises meant to build him up rather than break him down like he was used to. He  _ craved _ it. 

And he had been willing to fight for it. 

So he did. 

And he got it back, temporarily. 

Then the truly worst day of his life arose and he had to live through not only his death- but the hell that ensued. 

Tony in that life, that earth, wasn’t his Tony. 

But it felt so incredibly  _ real.  _

He knew the difference, could decipher reality from fantasy- but some of the memories seemed far too good to let go. Even if the bad did grossly outweigh them.

Tony left him to die, time and time again. Talked down on him in public; refused to stake any claim to him or acknowledge any sort of friendship between them. In the public’s eyes, Tony’s too- or at least the image he’d created, Peter was more worthless than the pile of ruble left crumbling at Tony’s feet after every successful battle. The world may have once been Peter’s oyster, but now he was trapped in its shell and contending with his own mind for any sort of acknowledgement on his worth. 

In that world, he truly got to understand what darkness was. What he claimed to know as an angsty adolescent who thought his parents death and a high school bully was the hardest hardships of his life. 

He became acquainted with it in a way he never thought he would; understood craving death was going to forever remain an insatiable urge and that he only got this Tony- the mean, cruel Tony, to be nice to him behind closed doors. He was loved and worshiped by him as they worked together in the lab that was their haven. Tony would gush over Peter's work; fawn over his discoveries and accomplishments, then claim them as his own in the real world. 

So many things happened in that earth that he wished to forget, yet nothing could erase the truth behind his fears- behind Thanos’ predictions.

Nothing could erase the reality. 

And so he stood before the glass door, heart still hammering against his chest but now mirroring calloused hands beating to a fast paced rhythm on a set of drums; each hit secluded in his mind and rattling along his teeth.

All those titles, those plans and ideas on what his future would hold in store for him- who he would be and what he would make of himself, never prepared him for who he would actually become. They did nothing to pave the paths of his life or secure the meaning behind his new role. They didn’t foreshadow the weight behind the title he now wore; didn’t translate how meaningful and  _ heavy _ it truly was.

Still, it was his now to claim and claim it he would. 

It was now his truth, his reality, and he pressed a hand against the door and gently pushed it open. 

“Hello, Peter,” a soft, timid yet familiar voice said; the brown eyes warm and inviting, the smile so gentle and encouraging, but the offered hand did little ease or appease the war raging within his mind. It demanded a god,  _ his _ god, and all it got was the curly haired man. 

“Hello,” he parroted, the fear not hidden but easily masked behind excitement as he forced his trembling lips to stretch over his teeth. 

No, Spider-Man didn’t prepare him for this. 

But as he laid down on the bed that crinkled beneath his achy body, he decided it was more than a fair trade. Knowledge for the unknown; comfort and safety for unsureness and discovery. He was prepared to sacrifice his entire life, and give it all to the little bean preparing to make his entrance on the large, holographic screen projected feet from his bed.

Because although he wasn’t prepared before- he was  _ so _ ready to become a parent to this baby. 

He was so ready to retire Spider-Man and cloak himself with the quilt of parenthood. A warmth and serenity all held and secured in a chubby cheeked, bubbly little baby. 

There was no question asked- no acknowledgment of the man missing, yet Bruce seemed to catch onto the fact that the appointment hadn’t yet  _ started _ , and wouldn’t, because he smiled once more at Peter and took a seat on his simple spinning stool. “How is your morning sickness?” He asked, making a pen appear out of thin air. 

“Fine,” he answered. “I’ve been having..” and did he tell Bruce? Of the sharp pains constantly shooting down his side? Of the continuous cramps and dull ache in the middle of his chest? Or did he lie and pretend everything was okay- that he wasn’t hurting, that he wasn’t stressed… that everything was… fine. 

But then a small voice echoed a reminder in his head;  _ Your life isn’t the only one at stake. _

“These pains, in my side. And a dull ache in the middle of my chest.” 

He wasn’t going to risk his entire future just because he was stubborn. Because there was some petty feud existing between him and Tony because Peter refuses to accept Tony’s beliefs and, in turn, believe them too. 

It wasn’t his fault he felt so incredibly uncomfortable with the thought of Matt that it had led to him reaching out to Loki, and it wasn’t his fault Tony didn’t trust him and had a sentinel follow him. 

Peter was going to tell him. 

He was. 

Until Tony  _ accused _ him of cheating. Of siding with his enemy; conspiring to tear the entire team apart and to leave Tony in the dust. Forgotten. Abandoned. Un-loved. 

Tony fell victim to his own self doubts, his own insecurities, and Peter refused to entertain his accusations with any response. Tony accused him, and Peter took it. Tony yelled at him, and Peter forced back his tears. Tony slept in the lab that night, and Peter curled up alone in their bed. 

And to think, a disapproval on a near complete stranger was the initial reason for their differences. A stranger Tony claimed to not care for which, Peter was assuming, was for the sake of keeping the peace. Yet it was still what had led to the two of them drifting apart until, eventually, Peter found himself alone for what was supposed to be the gender reveal of his baby. 

Did Bruce see it too, Peter wondered? The oddity that surrounded Matt like a thick, black cloud? He was tempted to ask, to delve into exactly what led to his and Tony’s argument but he couldn’t. He wasn’t prepared for the answers that would follow and the looks he was sure to receive if Bruce hadn't seen it- saw what lie hidden beneath Matt’s facade. Peter couldn’t face reality if he was going crazy. 

So he stayed silent. 

Answering questions Bruce asked while also trying to withhold some information to  _ not _ make Tony out to be the bad guy. Guilty of any of Peter’s symptoms. 

Bruce didn’t look at all happy or approving as he looked over Peter’s stats. 

“Have you been under any stress?” 

Peter bit his lip, the palm of his hands sliding across his loose jeans to collect the dampness that lay on his palms like a quilt of moisture. Evidence of his nerves. He looked at Bruce, and raised an eyebrow. “More so than usual? No. Stress is a given, Bruce. It comes with this job. We knew that,  _ I _ knew that- didn’t we?” 

Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth hollowed in an O, hurt evident at the callousness in Peters tone. “Are you asking my permission? Or my agreement?” He asked, the butt of his pen digging into his forehead where divots of hurt were etched into his skin like a story of betrayal. Confusion. “Because stress  _ is _ a given, but you’ve been off the field for, well, technically speaking- years. These past few months you’ve been under strict observation and have had minimal reason for stress, the kidnapping aside. So no, Peter, I’m not giving you permission to lie to me over why your heart rate is elevated- why your blood pressure has spiked and you're so severely dehydrated your kidneys have the beginning of an infection.” 

Peter’s hands clenched at his sides, shell shocked into silence at being called out and his excuses debunked. He’s hidden behind his role as spider man because he thought Bruce would accept and agree with the symptoms matching his daily role as a superhero- not discredit it all with logic. 

Peter swallowed thickly, and his eyes found the curve of Bruce’s shoulder where a single loose thread was sticking out. “Spider-man is a-“ he tried again, futility be damned. 

“No, Peter- I’m not asking about  _ Spider-Man.  _ I’m asking why  _ you _ ,  _ Peter Parker,  _ is stressed.” 

Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill into plain sight if he was pushed even a little more because he was  _ tired.  _ Of fighting with Tony over how he felt regarding Morgan’s new caregiver. Signed off by Pepper so  _ of course _ he was fine. He wasn’t to be questioned because Pepper’s judge of character was  _ perfect  _ and Peter needed to understand that he wasn’t Morgan’s father or parent and he had  _ no _ say in who was in her life. 

He wasn’t her  _ family.  _

And he was tired of pretending to be. Of attempting to gain Tony’s attention and approval and coming out the other side empty handed because Tony allowed his own insecurities and hate to dictate their relationship. Did he not think Peter knew? Saw the way him and Pepper interacted; bodies mingling and intertwining to form the perfectly inseparable duo who was nearly always picture ready?

Did he not think Peter had his own doubts; felt his  _ own _ insecurities slamming into him full throttle when he saw, yet again, Pepper and Tony plastered across newspapers when Peter was at home, curled up in their bed with Tony’s pillow hugged to his chest because, for days, that was the only thing he had that even remotely smelt like the man. That even mirrored a close enough connection to him that Peter could, if only even for the night, trick his senses into believing the feathered pillow was Tony. 

Of course, to his heightened sense of smell, the essence of Tony that was rooted deep within the fibers of the pillow stayed  _ strong _ and held up their end of the deal. But Peter's own memories have begun to fail him and he has started to allow both of his worlds to coexist inside his mind and last night, when he held Tony’s pillow tight to his chest, he remembered a night on Thanos’ planet when he’d been pathetic enough to steal a t-shirt from Tony. 

It had been hole riddled and stained with blood and grease, but Peter held it close for years there. Loved and coddled it. 

To him, that pillow very well could belong on that planet. He was lost in a simulation, and had somehow deterred from the original plot and constructed one of his own that was far superior than one Thanos’ could ever have chosen or written. Because in this world, this reality, Peter was constructing his own heartbreak. 

He shrugged meekly. “Same old same old.” 

Bruce huffed, clearly annoyed. He stood up and moved towards the door, making to leave. “If you’re not going to talk to me, Peter, and help me understand your symptoms then I don’t know why we’re even here. I can’t help ensure the safety of your baby if I don’t know the  _ truth.”  _

Peter bolted up, the neck of his shirt sliding off his shoulder to reveal milky skin littered with tiny little freckles all framing and heightening the single scratch mark there. Luckily, Bruce didn’t seem to notice and Peter quickly fixed it. “No, please. I’m-I’m sorry.” He said, head bowed. “I promise to tell the truth.” 

“Then begin, from the beginning. I didn’t ask for the dirty details, Peter, just if you’ve been stressed.” 

So Peter explained, being vague while keeping to the truth. Him and Tony have been fighting. Peter worked himself up every night, built his anxiety up to new levels and wound up feeling as his chest concaved beneath the weight of his own fortified thoughts. 

And Bruce listened. Never judging, and never asking more unless it was absolutely necessary. 

“Okay,” Bruce said decidedly, the pen returning to his coat pocket. His eyes narrowed as he glanced over his own notes. “The side pains are from dehydration and the kidney affection- before you leave today, I’ll hook you up to an IV and get you up and running again. But remember, Pete, you need to drink at  _ least  _ sixty four ounces of water a day. At  _ least.”  _

Peter nodded. “Okay, okay. More water, less coffee. Got it.” 

“I’m also going to work on a personalized strain of Zoloft for you- all safe for pregnancy, of course, just a more… augmented version, if you will. One that won’t be burned out of your system the second you take it.” Bruce wrote another thing down, the pen materializing in his fingers once more. “As for the chest pain; I have one simple solution.” 

Peter paused, watching him with bated breath because he knew what was coming. Knew of the chastising he was about to get. He obsessed over Tony for absolutely no reason that was worth the expense of his own health. He needed to stop. To give up. To focus on himself and his baby rather than worrying on if Tony still loved him- believed that Peter was worth it all. The ups, the downs, the arguments and the makeups. Was Peter worth the doubts and the unsureness? 

Peter groaned and forced the thoughts out of his head. He couldn’t afford to do this anymore- literally. If Tony.. If Tony wanted space, Peter would give it to him. 

He wouldn’t run, but he wasn’t going to play Tony’s games any longer. The man could go out with Pepper, and ignore Peter. Believe the boy was so unsatisfied he had to seek pleasure outside of their relationship when everything Peter did, went against Tony’s accusations. He was smitten and if Tony couldn’t see that, Peter had no idea how to make it any clearer. 

“Space.” 

And it was such a simple word, but held so much punch behind it and Peter knew it was  _ exactly  _ what he needed. 

_ Space.  _

“From Tony?” He asked, even if the implication was clear. 

Bruce shrugged, and pocketed his cell phone after he checked the reflective screen. He studied Peter for a second, narrowed eyes scanning his small frame as if he was assessing his stature and the simple hunch of his shoulders could tell an entire story.

“From everything.” 

Peter laughed, incredulous. “Everything? I can’t just- I have duties, I can’t leave everything behind.” 

“I didn’t say  _ leave,” _ Bruce said, standing. “I said  _ space _ . For clarification, I mean step back. The team, aren’t your concern. Stop worrying about us all, or your aunt, or your friends and  _ certainly _ stop worrying about Tony. Obsessing over things you can’t change only causes you more harm, Peter. I’m suggesting you step back and let the cards fall where they will.” 

And he could do that, couldn’t he? Let the cards fall where the will, let destiny take the lead without his unnecessary intervention. 

His hand smoothed over his stomach when he felt the tiniest flutter of a kick, and he nodded, determined. “Space.” 

After discussing his treatments options with Bruce, and given a strict order to drink as much water as he could possibly handle, Peter was sent on his way with an IV hooked up to his arm. He felt silly walking with the metal rolling stand, but Bruce wanted to paint him as a victim and tear Tony apart at the thought that he was  _ hurt.  _ It was manipulative, but sometimes the only way to break through Tony’s stubbornness. 

He opted out on finding out the gender of the baby  _ just _ yet, knowing he would end up blurting it the second he saw tony and he didn’t want to break the silence first. He didn’t… he didn’t want to be the one who ventured out of his way to find Tony, who had to apologize and beg for forgiveness. It was Tony’s turn. To prove that Peter truly was worth it. 

He was stopped by at least fifteen different people on his way back to his room, Wanda and Nat insisting on offering their assistance, but Peter assured them he was fine and it was a simple IV and that, “ _ please- don’t treat me like I’m fragile. I’m just dehydrated. I’m fine.”  _

And to take Bruce’s advice literally, the second the IV was removed from his arm he began to move his items to his own room. Having Sam and a few others come and help him with the heavy stuff, which included boxes full of baby items they’d received from the baby shower that Peter had yet to go through because he sucked at being organized and consistent. 

By the time they were done, Tony’s organized clutter was left spaced periodically around the room and it was as if Peter had never resided here. He was erased from the room and the only evidence of his presence there was his own scent lingering on the unmade bed sheets. 

To the eye, he never existed in Tony’s life. He never… their lives weren’t entertwined and would  _ never _ be in the same way Tony and Peppers were. She has a dominating personality and her presence demanded to be seen and felt. Everything her stood out in a room; scream for acknowledgement. 

Peter wasn’t like that. He never was and never will be. 

Despite the pettiness that may be behind his actions, those weren’t his intentions. He wasn’t doing this to hurt Tony. He was doing this to find out who he himself was. Since his return, he was chasing after a man who’s validation he always seeked. He didn’t know who he was beyond Tony, and he needed to figure it out. Gain his independence, and hopefully in the process it would make Tony see what he was missing. That Peter wasn’t just a pawn in his game and that he wasn’t here for a temporary run. He wouldn’t get tired of the man. 

And that despite Tony’s insecurities, Peter wasn’t going to leave him for the next person who paid him the slightest bit of attention. The accusations had hurt him originally but eventually Peter understood. Loki was attractive. And in Tony’s eyes, he was the equivalent to Pepper in Peter’s. A goddess. Incomparable. 

How could Tony ever compete with the son of Oden? 

But Peter respected Thor far too much to ever consider  _ even _ looking at Loki in a way that extended beyond a friendly way. That fact that he was in love with Tony seemed to be a big problem, too, but that was besides the point. 

“Didn’t think you had the balls, Parker,” Nat said. She was leaning against the door frame in his bedroom, eyes scanning the room with an impressed smirk. He knew she was attempting to startle him with her presence but he heard her coming a few seconds ago. “Thought you were too lost in the whole Stockholm bit Stark was playing at,” 

Peter snorted and folded another pair of pajama pants, the space around him on his bed covered in clothing. “Didn’t have Stockholm syndrome,” he argued, knowing she was teasing but it still hurt a little to know her of all people still had a problem with his relationship. “But thanks, I guess?” 

Nat walked further into the room and picked up a random box of his to snoop through. “Definitely a compliment,” she said, lifting a glass globe Ned got him for his thirteenth birthday out of the box to study it. “Not many people have managed to unpry Tony’s claws from their body, so mad props to you for managing to leave-“ 

“I’m not leaving him, Nat.” Peter said, frustrated. How did he make her understand that his need for space was also underlined with the hope that if he wasn’t in the room, Tony would go to it and  _ actually  _ get some sleep.

To Peter’s knowledge, he hasn’t slept for a week. 

“I’m just-“ 

“Fed up?” She asked, not at all fazed by his outburst. She set the globe on his desk. “Yeah, I get it, Peter. You want to be seen for all you have to offer, not just what Tony wants to see. You want to be  _ seen.”  _

Peter nodded eagerly and licked his lips.  _ Yes! Exactly.  _ “I’m tired of always being the one who tries to fix things.” 

Nat took another item out of the box and set it next to the globe. It was a bobble headed Iron-Man he’d bought at a flea market one summer. He ignored her snort as she eyed the item. “You shouldn’t have to be. Stark should have to fight for you if he wants you.” 

And  _ yes.  _ Peter’s deprived soul was preening at the acknowledgement of his  _ wants.  _ Of all he’s craved but has been denied because nobody wanted to see  _ his _ side. They all focused on Tony because the man was still struggling to adapt to his life as an AI. His actions were excused because he was having trouble adjusting, but  _ no.  _ Peter fought, and fought and  _ fought.  _ It was now Tony’s turn. 

_ But what if he doesn’t fight?  _ A distant voice asked, and Peter deflated. Paranoia rang loud in his ears. 

That-  _ that  _ was also a possibility. 

“What if he doesn’t?” Peter asked, his voice so small and delicate he  _ finally  _ sounded like the fifteen year old boy who had his adolescence ripped away from him. He looked every bit of human as he craved to be, and he pulled his knees to his chest. The curve of his stomach hidden behind his thighs that were pressed tight against it. 

He wanted to make himself appear  _ smaller _ , because maybe if he was smaller, his fears would somehow shrink and become so insignificant. Invalid. 

Nat rolled her eyes, and another item was placed on the desk. Peter realized she was unpacking his room and he didn’t know if it was for a distraction to keep herself from lashing out, or because she pitied him. Whatever the reason, the contents of the box were slowly emptied accordingly on his desk in the exact same way as it had been before. 

She’s paid attention to him and his rooms, apparently. 

His heart swelled with warmth at the realization. 

“Please,” and it was her turn to snort, “I may talk a lot of shit on Tony, Peter, but the man isn’t stupid. He’ll come around, and he’ll realized how fucking moronic some of his actions tend to be. It’s just a matter of patience because sometimes he ignores his inner monologue.” 

She shrugged, and the empty box was broken down and folded before placed neatly on top of the pile he’s already accumulated by the door. Finally, her eyes found his and she sighed. “How about we go out for dinner?” She asked. “Just you and me. It’ll be a nice distraction and it’ll give me a new excuse to break in my new boots- Wanda insists I bought some with heels and I can’t walk in them to save my life so you’d be doing me a  _ super  _ big favor coming with me to save me with your spidy tingles so I don’t eat shit.” 

She grinned, all teeth and smile lines and Peter caved like the weak man he was. “What about my stomach?” He asked with a sigh. 

Her smile widened. “Show it off, lover boy. Let the world know you’re claimed, and leave Tony to answer their questions.” 

He knew he shouldn’t be thrilled by the prospect of leaving Tony to answer all the questions regarding his youngest recruits current pregnancy status, but he did. And he didn’t even feel an  _ ounce _ of guilt for dropping this  _ major _ public appearance bomb shell on Pepper. She would have hell covering it up or attempting to salvage Peter’s image from the ruins he was bound to leave it in, but he was going to take Nat’s advice. 

Tony and Pepper be  _ damned.  _

~~~

He regrets it almost instantly. 

The restaurant Nat chose was crowded and hot, the stuffy air creeping into his lungs and suffocating him even with his clothing dressed down to the bare minimum. He was in thin, tight fighting skinny jeans that hugged the bottom swell of his stomach so tightly he was bound to have an imprint of the waste band marking his skin. His shirt was a thin decorated T-shirt with a Spider-Man logo printed on the front and he knew it was self conceited but it was the only shirt of Tony’s he could find that would fit him. It was made with a soft, cottony material but it was stretched so thin it didn’t succeed in keeping the cold breeze from creeping across his skin on their ride over here. 

But now? It held the heat in a  _ little _ too well. 

They were in a secluded corner of the restaurant, the busy bustle of waiters and waitresses distracting as they raced around the room to take everybody’s orders. It wasn’t a restaurant Peter was used to. It was obviously a higher end one, but more in the middle class compared to what Tony took them to. It was more comfortable and lax, but still had a stiff atmosphere and Peter tugged at the neck of his shirt. 

“It’s uh- it’s  _ hot.”  _ He said, clearing his throat only to realize it was dry. He took a sip of water and shifted in his seat, the plastic cover of the booth squeaking at his movement but the noise was hidden beneath the audible murmur of multiple conversations floating around them. 

Nat peered at him over her laminated menu, her winged eyeliner sharp and killer even in the low lighting of the restaurant. “You’re fine, Miss Menopause.” She said, nudging his menu towards him. “Distract yourself with the menu. See what you want to eat. You’re just nervous.” 

And okay, yes, he was. Despite the fact that they were in a place that was classy enough that people knew not to bother them during their meal, they still didn’t have the common decency to  _ not _ stare at them and photograph them. Peter was on the edge of his seat, hand cupped over the side of his face to at least hinder his identity and Nat rolled her eyes. 

“Food, Parker. Decide.” 

He immediately obeyed and picked up the menu, nimble fingers attempting to open the heavy flaps so he could read the entirety of the menu. 

There were too many eyes on him and he may have grown accustomed to it- of living in the public’s eye, but now his life wasn’t the only thing being photographed. He should have addressed his pregnancy to the public in a more professional manner; not just dropping it on them because Nat had said something mildly convincing. 

He hated himself for being such a follower. 

His fingers itched to grab his phone and see what headlines he was already making for his sudden and alarming appearance, but Nat had confiscated his phone the second they got in the car and he doesn’t know where she put it. Which, he supposes, was probably for the better. He didn’t need that obsession on top of his Tony-fueled one. 

Peter scanned over the menu, but periodically his eyes kept shifting to scan the room before they quickly moved back down to the menu in his hands. He couldn’t help himself- truly. But he must have slipped in his thought-to-be perfect system, because Nat sighed loud and a hand was slamming down on his menu and making him jump. 

“Who gives a fuck?” She asked. 

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, and he stared at her in confusion. “What?” 

“Who gives a fuck what they say? You’re Peter fucking Parker. You’ve been in space. You’re the first pregnant  _ human _ male to have ever existed on this planet, and you’re Spider-Man. So many qualities that are incomparable, yet you still worry about their opinions? You care what they think about you but  _ why?”  _

“Because-“ Peter said, voice trembling but he couldn’t actually think of a valid reason. Couldn’t offer one that would explain why he cared because he didn’t  _ know.  _ There were so many reasons, so many memories of being made feel inadequate and weak- ugly and frail. Before Spider-Man, he was nobody worth remembering and he couldn’t simply erase who he once was because he was now apparently something much more. The scars remained like fresh lacerations across his brain and the continuous bleed was just feeding loop after loop of memories. 

Of being photographed to be made fun of. All the people pointing, and laughing. Of never being first pick and always being shoved to the front of the bus because nobody wanted to sit by him, or left alone to do projects because everyone else was partnered off and he was the odd man out. The freak. The loser. 

The pathetic-

“See that?” Nat asked, waving her hand over his person, successfully pulling him from his thoughts. “You don’t even know  _ why.  _ You obsess over all these irrelevant people because you’ve been deprived of positive attention your entire life. You feel that if you can get it from them, then somehow your entire existence will be worth it. You  _ need _ it to feel relevant.” 

Peter fell silent, face heated with shame because it was  _ true.  _ All of it. Nat was calling him out on something he had hoped to never acknowledge and now he was slapped in the face with his own embarrassing qualities. 

Still; “I-I don’t care,” he attempted to argue, the waiver of his voice renouncing his courage and beliefs behind his lie. Stripping him of all his mock indifferences. 

“But you do,” 

Yet he didn’t, did he? Not truly. He’s convinced himself of this, at least. “But Tony does,” 

Nat shook her head and laid her menu down flat, the purse of her lips sympathetic yet promulgating her desire to prove Peter’s worth without placing it in another person’s arms; held within their control. “He doesn’t,” she whispered, the soft tone somehow hitting Peter harder than a raised one would have. “And you know that. Tony may not be shy when it comes to presenting his life to the public so they can tear it apart like vultures and help validate or fuel his own self degradation and beliefs of his lacking morality, but he has never once denied or discredited the uniqueness that is you, Peter Parker. If anything, he has highlighted it throughout the years by advocating for your character. Saying a fifteen year old was  _ worth _ it when everyone else believed you weren’t mature enough.” 

She shook her head again, sadness a quality not hidden in the slow bounce of her curls and he wondered how she managed to do that. To project her emotions so effortlessly they flowed down her body with a simple movement, yet masked them with a simple blink. “He wouldn’t care if these people thought you would be the cause for the world to end because of your mutated abilities and unique awareness of how the stones function or correlate together. He would present you as if you were the very jewel resting on the gauntlet meant to end his life, and he would still snap knowing what would follow. So stop wallowing away in your self pity, Peter, and remember how powerful you are regardless of what your mind has convinced you of.” 

It was a bit confusing, Peter decided as he struggled to follow her analogies; with the smell of perfume, chicken and the earthy scent of boiling broccoli all acting as an anchored distraction. But once it all processed; slammed into the doors in his mind that acted as barriers of protection to coddle his sanity, he was on the brink of tears. 

Because yes, he knew this. Of course he did. Tony would kill himself if it meant Peter  _ thrived.  _ He has, once. And he would, again. Just to prove how much he was worth; to the world and, more importantly, to the frustrating genius. Peter was one of the infinity stones; meant to be protected because he very well could bring the earth crashing down around them with his unhappiness. His discontent. One word? One carefully articulated plea? And Tony would do as Peter asked. 

Commit mass genocide. 

Just to remind Peter fucking Parker that he wasn’t some toy like Thanos had treated him as. That he was  _ unique.  _ And he was to always remember this- despite the opinions of those around him. 

How easy it was to forget when Tony went on his benders. Fell off the wagon of sanity to dance in the flowery fields of madness, the twirling of his feet heard all throughout the night as he stomped across the lab floor and got lost in yet another project. Peter knew Tony was upset, with his opinion on Matt and his betrayal of confiding in Loki, but the man was also hurt and what better way to let out his anger than through his projects? He could freely beat away at the hunks of metal and not be reprimanded for harming them or told he  _ couldn’t  _ because they were  _ his.  _ It was his outlet for his frustration and his pride refused to allow him to cave and apologize to Peter because never before has it happened. 

Before Peter, anyway. 

It all slammed into him with full force, knocking the breath from his lungs that came out in a rushed but silent exhale; the quiver of his lips evident as he lifted his eyes to search Nat’s. “Why do I allow myself to get lost inside my own mind?” He asked-  _ begged.  _ Wanting the answer yet knowing it was an impossible request. Nobody knew. Nobody ever would. Not until he relinquished the past and allowed it to rest beneath the fields of blooming flowers; no longer given the power to dictate and suffocate his life. 

Nat shrugged, sucking on her teeth. “Nobody is perfect,” she said, and of  _ course _ not even she could truly answer his questions. “Mine is I refuse the love of a man because I’m terrified of ruining him.”

“Ruin him how?” He knew it was the wrong thing to ask the second it left his lips- it was too invasive; too prying. 

Nat’s spine immediately went straight, eyes shuttering as her defensive system kicked into gear and completely shut down her natural response system; kicking her into automatic to save her from the harmful truth. From revealing too much and chance getting hurt. 

But then something must have clicked in her mind; registered the way Peter gasped nearly inaudible and jerked back in his seat, because she heaved a sigh and sagged forward with her cleavage visible from beneath the sharp cut of her v-necked pale red blouse. (She refused a dress.) 

“None of us have a past we are particularly proud of,” she grunted carefully, words breathy and forced, like she was in physical pain speaking them. “But mine is especially dark. I do not talk about it with anyone- and I mean  _ anyone,  _ Parker. But I relinquish that hold to Bruce? Give in to his persistency? Then he will see me for who I am, who I was  _ made _ to be, and there are some things you just can’t be forgiven for. Some things that can’t be  _ forgotten _ , no matter how hard you try.” 

Her eyes grew dark, hued by a pain so poorly masked Peter could feel it when Nat looked up at him. Her green eyes were clouded with memories and regret; betrayals slashing away at the pupils and spinning in dizzying circles through her retina; portraying so many years, so many  _ memories,  _ with a simple look. Making her so completely transparent it alarmed him. 

“So yes,” she continued with a soft sigh and shake of her head, “Tony may not pay mind to the fact that you are the only one who was singled out by Thanos and given the opportunity to feel the power welded by each and every infinity stone for decades, but Bruce is not so forgiving. How will he look at me, Peter, when he realizes the intentions behind my creation?” 

She frowned, the lost look returning as she gazed into the distance; somewhere just behind his shoulder that he couldn’t quite see. “I can not take away what little innocence he has left, Peter. Bruce has a hard enough time looking in the mirror. I do not need  _ my _ guilt there, evident in his reflection as it weighs down on him. It is mine to carry.” 

“And it’s easier to lead him on? Ignore both of your emotions to save him from potential pain?” Peter asked, trying to understand her even if he knew deep down, he would have done the same. If Tony had lived, Peter wouldn’t have stuck around after they defeated Thanos. He would have left for the sake of all their sanity. 

“So you do see?” She asked, nodding. She licked over her red stained lips and waved off the waiter who began to walk in their direction. “My pain is a pale compromise for his happiness.” 

Peter shook his head. “Isn’t that up for Bruce to decide?” 

“No. Because he would ignore his own well being as long as it means  _ I  _ am safe and happy.” 

“That’s the compromise that is love, Nat. You tell each other the darkness of your past, and trust the other can handle it. You don’t  _ make _ that decision for them. That is their own to make.”

Peter still hasn’t understood the compromising qualities of love. He hides because he’s terrified if he doesn’t, Tony will see the ugliness that hides within his heart and run in the opposite direction. He will see the everlasting scar that Thanos has left imprinted there, in the folds of his beating lifeline, and realize the claim is irreversible. Peter will forever be affected by the purple giant, and time could never erase that. Tony could never  _ reverse _ it. 

“Sometimes,” she said, twirling her unwrapped straw between her fingers with a forced casualness. “you have to make that decision to save them from their own stupidity.” 

Done with the conversation because he had no idea how to respond, Peter allowed the topic to die there; for her words to grow cold. He couldn’t think on it, because then his obsession would lock to it and he would never get it out of his head that he was ruining Tony by being with him. 

Flipping through the menu, which was in a language he didn’t actually recognize but quickly learned was Russian when Nat informed him as much- he ordered a mystery item and hoped for the best.

”Do you ever miss it?” Nat suddenly asked, gaze lost to the traffic just outside the restaurant. 

“Miss what?” Peter asked, startled. 

He set down his glass of water, straw still twirling in his abandoned effort at creating a coriolis effect with ice clanking against the side of the glass, and looked up. Their waiter approached with a basket of assorted bread. 

Nat watched him, patient, and waited for him to leave before she spoke up again. “Life, before the snap?” She said, that hollow, distant look back. “It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. We didn’t know the threats that loom out there. To humans, we were the most powerful things. We were the biggest threat. The world worked in a dysfunctionally chaotic way where we ignored what was so obviously wrong just so we could have a few more seconds of starved normalcy. But then… it changed. We all changed and I- do you miss it?” 

Peter considered it, honestly. Did he miss the world before? The potential it posed and offered him for a better, much more improved life? Did he miss the normalcy that enveloped his life despite his gifts? He imagined he would be at college with Mj and Ned, preparing to graduate and venture into the world all bright eyed and naive. He wouldn’t know betrayal and heartbreak. He wouldn’t know how it feels to have his insides torn apart internally without any damage visible to support his pain. He wouldn’t know what it feels like to die, or how his own pain was pale in comparison to watching as Tony clung to the clumped pieces of his dusty body, desperation evident as he attempted to piece him back together. 

He wouldn’t know what it feels like to lose Tony. 

And in a way, Tony was a large enough denominator for him to properly weigh his options. One universe, he was intimately familiar with the pain of losing Tony. In another, he wasn’t even subjected to the same luxury. He was held at an arm's length, always teased but never granted access. He would never know what it feels like to lose Tony, but he also wouldn’t know the sheer happiness that comes from having him; of being his. 

All of those things were true, but without Thanos and the destruction brought on by him, he wouldn’t be sat here, at this table with Nat, pregnant, with enough experience and knowledge to claim he’s experienced death, brought a man back to life  _ and  _ been to space before he wasn’t even twenty one. 

He’s felt the pain of the world, but has also saw the beauty in not one, but two timelines. He wouldn’t know the solidarity that consumed him on Thanos’ planet as he sits on the balcony and toasts to the rising moon, alone like always but with Tony’s gaze heavy on his back. He wouldn’t know the joy brought on by a child that isn’t his own but still fills him up so completely he feels as if he’s going to burst every time her brown eyes find him. 

Without their trip to Space, he probably wouldn’t have been appointed a Avenger and without that title, he wouldn’t have a proper relationship with Nat. With any of them. Without the world ending threat, they wouldn’t have come together and… it would all be so different. 

He probably wouldn’t even have Tony. 

There were a lot of things to miss, he decided. His sanity, being one. But there was so much he’s gained. And he couldn't justify losing it all, even if it was for a few seconds of simple reminiscing. The pain came with either option, and he would rather have the pain he has now, than to never know what it feels like to watch Tony sleeping soundly beside him with Peter’s name still dusting his parted lips like residual fairy dust. 

“No,” he whispered, afraid she would be upset by his answer. He continued, careful. “I understand how there are a lot of things for you to miss, a lot of beneficial things, but I’ve gained more than I could’ve ever hoped for. Yeah, I’ve also been hurt- but isn’t it all worth it? To come out the other side  _ knowing _ we survived our biggest threat yet and we came out the other side like bad asses? Virtually untouched?  _ Indestructible?”  _

Nat laughed, the sadness and longing for something that no longer existed still clouding her eyes, but the milky hues were evaporating second by second. But then she froze, and all progress they made disappeared. “I dream about the final battle. Endgame. I die in every single one, and I wonder if that outcome would’ve been better?” 

Peter was knocked breathless, grasping for threads of their conversations to cling to one as she jumped from topic to topic. Discussing a fear, a nightmare, that has plagued him for years. “W-Why would you think that?” But wait… If someone like  _ Nat _ felt like this, maybe he wasn’t such a freak after all. Maybe he was… normal? Or as normal as was socially acceptable in this world.

She shrugged. “How am I benefiting anybody here?” 

“I never thought you to be ignorant,” Peter spat before he even realized he was speaking- before he could register the callousness that twined with his words like they owned them. Nat frowned at him. Peter sighed and palmed at his stomach, attempting to use his palm to shove away the pains that were steadily rolling to crash into his stomach from not eating. “Have you forgotten? How much you’ve benefited me? I realize that’s a selfish reasoning, but Nat- look at everyone you have helped this past year. Beyond me, or the Avengers, you’ve been offering help to rebuild and reconstruct the world as we know it. You’ve offered your time, money and compassion to strangers who have never known a tougher time.” 

“I’m not saying I haven’t benefited anybody,” she argued, shaking her head but the usual bounce in her hair was gone. Weird, like Peter pointed out. How she managed to hide, yet project her emotions so effortlessly. Just as she opened her mouth to talk, the water approached with plates of food. “Maybe you’re right,” she relented suddenly, dropping the conversation with an offhanded wave. 

Peter made mental notes to pick it back up later, in a more appropriate setting. 

Nate watched him for the rest of the meal, almost a little unsettled. Like she was afraid Peter would bring it back up and kick her emotions or her thoughts- which he never would. But he took pity and let it go, only ever talking if the conversation was light and he carried it towards that direction and continued to steer it there. He liked to vent sometimes, too. Even if it wasn’t intentional and he would hate if someone used what he said, against him. 

Nate was just paying for the check when her phone rang. Peter, the naturally snoopy fuck, stayed at the table when she stood up, and busied himself with tucking the cash into check, but subtly listened into her conversation. She walked towards the back of the restaurant, towards the restrooms. 

“Hello?” 

The other person was muffled, and he was sure if he concentrated hard enough he could hear them, but with the bustling of the restaurant and the clanking of forks and high heels and the low volume of people talking, it was hard to focus on anything else for too long. 

“No, he’s here. Not that it’s any of your business- you know what? How about you stop acting like a teenager and ask him yourself, Tony. You’re a grown adult, start acting like one and stop taking everything out on Peter. Either commit to the relationship or end it already.” 

Peter's heart stilled, and with great effort he was prying his bug eyes off of Nate to focus on the shaking fingers curled dangerously tight around his glass cup, his other hand sporting a new three-finger ring where his now bent metal fork was curled. “Fuck-“ he cussed, quickly tucking it into his pocket. Luckily nobody saw him do it. 

“He didn’t have to tell me anything, Tony. It’s been like this for months. You run back and forth. You get insecure and you push him away- it’s what you do. But when are you going to realize you can only push him away so many times before he stays away permanently? Even our little spider boy has his limits.” 

Nat was talking about him, his relationship, and he knew it was wrong to listen, an invasion of her privacy, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to listen to someone advocating for him, who wasn’t on his side, nor Tony’s, but was an indifferent bystander who could see both sides and didn’t take any bullshit.

She was telling to Tony everything he’s thought but has been afraid to say. Peter wanted to desperately hear what Tony was saying in response. Was he defending himself? Tearing Peter’s image down? Yelling at Nat? 

He needed to know. 

He leaned just a little closer- just a tiny bit closer with his elbow resting on his knee and his ass half way out of his chair, the check held in his hands where he was mindlessly fiddling with it and... 

He needed just a little closer. 

But he still couldn’t hear anything. 

Nat shifted on her feet, turning her back towards Peter with a hand on her right hip. “He’s capable of a lot more than that and you know it-“

“Can I get anything else for you, sir?” Peter startled back, the check- which he’d once again been shamelessly stuffing the money into so much the bills were no longer folded properly but were now a crumbled ball tucked beneath the flap. He grinned sheepishly and pretended his heart hadn’t leapt out of his chest. 

He shook his head, attempting to peer around the man without being obvious or rude. “No, thank you. The meal was lovely.” 

“We hope to have you here again, sir,” the man said, bowing his head in a simple, soft gesture before he was taking the check and walking away. No ask for an autograph and Peter was too distracted to acknowledge the kind gesture. 

Peter glanced up, from beneath his lashes and noticed one of two things when he saw Nat was already making her way towards him. 

One: She lied. She walked in those shoes with the confidence and grace of a well-trained ballerina with each step precise without being obnoxious. She definitely didn’t need his help. 

And two: She had something to tell him. Something serious, if the scowl on her face was anything to go by. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Tony and Peter fought because Peter went to Loki with his problems regarding Michael. I realize I implied that, and skimmed over it, but I plan on addressing it full throttle later on. If you have any questions, ask me and I’ll happily answer. 
> 
> As always, kudos, comments and bookmarks are always appreciated. <3


	5. How pathetic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have debated posting this chapter for so long. I've went back and forth, and have had so much internal conflict and I can't give you a solid reason as to why. The only explanation I can offer is: I was so incredibly unsure of it, and completely insecure about my writing. It isn't up to par quite yet, but I am battling my inner-critique and slowly melting away my severe case of writers block one word at a time. So, enjoy. And know I have worked incredibly hard to bring you this chapter. I am sorry it's so long overdue. Thank you to those who have stuck it out. <3
> 
> Much love, xx

“I don’t think Peter should go and that’s the end of the discussion,” 

A voice filtered down the long corridor and tickled at Peter’s curious ears. He was usually self aware and made an effort not to ease drop on anyone’s conversations, but when it directly involved him, or at least his name, he argued that it was good enough reason to abuse his gifts. 

“I still don’t think that’s a decision for you to make, Tony. He’s been through a lot, but who hasn’t? If we put all our life’s on hold for the mild threats we get on our life’s, we would never move forward.” That was Rhodey, Peter knew the voice who always spoke reason on his behalf far too well. 

“It’s not about moving forward, Rhodes! God damn it- he’s become paranoid. He thinks Pepper’s nanny is out to get him and I’m not saying it isn’t rightly so. He went through the trauma of losing me and living in Thanos‘ mind fuck, followed by Venom and getting kidnapped. He’s had one life-altering moment after another and he has his- it-  _ the _ baby to worry about. Traveling across the world and signing the accords will only add-“ 

_ His _ baby. Peter’s heart dropped. 

“Look, do you want him as part of this team or not?” Rhodey cut him off and Peter’s throat swelled shut, eyes blinking rapidly to banish away the tears before they could fall and incriminate him. Nat was standing next to him, both stood in the elevator, and she didn’t need to know that Peter wasn’t listening to her ramble about her killer headache. 

He swayed to the right and caught himself on the rail on the elevator, the transition anything but smooth but Nat spared him a simple glance and went back to talking as she bent down to unzip her boots, figuring he’d collapsed to the rail for support. 

“What? Of course I do. Just be-“ 

“It’s a simple yes or no, Tony. Thor went through the trauma of losing his father, his  _ child,  _ and killing his sister within a short time span, and you expected him to be within fighting shape the exact moment you called on him. You were betrayed by countless people and  _ you _ still make your own decisions and claim you’re sane enough to fight by our sides. Hell- when I was in my accident, you didn’t give me hardly any time to cope or recover before you were forcing me back into the game. So tell me, Tony, do you want him on this team or not?” 

The numbers on the elevator grew higher with each second that passed, and Peter felt sick. 

“I-“ 

“Before you answer that, you have to ask yourself if it’s your traumas holding him back, or your own. You’re not scared for Peter, you’re scared of losing him and-“ 

“I’m not scared of losing him. But what do you think will ha- Sh- hey, listen… is the elevator in use? Friday?” 

He vaguely heard Friday respond, too focused on their presence being known to focus on her Irish lilted voice. 

Shit- they were caught. Peter scrambled into a standing position and pulled Nat close to his side, their arms looped, just as the elevator swooped to a stop and the stainless steel doors opened to reveal Tony and Rhodey, both standing five feet away from one another with Rhodey leaning casually against the wall and Tony standing in a predatory stance; like he was preparing to defend himself. 

Peter chanced a glance at him and his jaw was locked, a tiny twitch visible in his cheek as he ground his teeth together and he looked very unhappy, nearing murderous, with brown eyes narrowed and focused on the side of Rhodeys face. 

Rhodey smiled at them, unaware of Peter’s knowledge of their conversation. “Hi there, Pete, Nat,” he inclined his head in greeting and looked at the swell of Peter’s stomach, something indecipherable yet familiar sparking through his eye before it was gone- too quick for Peter to catch, and too complicated for him to possibly understand. 

“Hi,” Nat said, the tightening of her arm around Peter’s an obvious sign that she’d caught onto the heavy atmosphere. “Me and Pete we’re just returning from lunch- I think I’ll show him up to his room and leave you two to it,” 

The tension was palpable; each movement restricted, almost as if they’d all been placed in a set jello and couldn’t truly move without forcing their aching limbs forward. 

Peter could pretend he didn’t think about Tony; could act as if simply being in his presence didn’t make the blood sing in his veins, but nothing could dampen or hide how naturally drawn to the man he was. How he actively had to force his body in the opposite direction with Nat’s help because, as his thoughts strayed, so did his will. It catapulted his common sense out of his mind and standing his ground be damned- he wanted Tony. 

He wanted Tony to look at him, at his baby, and see  _ their  _ baby. Not just Peter’s. 

“Something bothering you, Peter?” Rhodey asked. 

“What? Hmm? Uh, no, definitely not.” except for he was obsessing over the fact that Tony didn’t see him as a partner; as a member of the team. He saw him as a burden, a child meant to be looked after and wasn’t to be trusted alone. And despite his previous excitement, he still didn’t acknowledge a claim to their child. “Just tired,” 

“Go get some rest,” Rhodey said, nodding like his suggestion was final. 

They began towards the stairs that would take them to the common area, where the avengers usually hung out during the day. “Where are we going?” Peter suddenly blurted, too upset to leave without answers and Nat offered him none on the way home which, honestly, only further upset him as he replayed Tony’s and Rhodey’s conversation. 

_ What was Tony going to say? _

Tony stilled, and Rhodey startled. The latters eyes flickered to Nat, subtle but noticeable, and she gave a very, very discreet shake of her head. 

_ Apparently Peter wasn’t supposed to know.  _

“What’re you talking about?” Rhodey asked, appearing a little unsettled but overall unbothered. He’s clearly learned his composure skills from Tony; how to hide and act when being directly called out. How to remain unfazed and impassive- unbothered but a smudge curious. 

Nat’s eyes narrowed. “Did you eavesdrop on my phone call?” 

Peter shook his head, and normally he’d be ashamed and bashful to admit he eavesdropped but he  _ wanted _ Tony to know he heard everything. That rather than defending his progress, he was discrediting everything Peter did. That he  _ heard  _ Tony, even if the man wasn’t speaking to him or even looking at him. 

It dawned on Tony the exact second Peter opened his mouth to talk. “Fucking spider-hearing,” he muttered under his breath, kicking a foot out in a dramatic show with the heel of his shoe slamming against the toes of his other shoe. 

Rhodey’s eyebrows rose. “I’m sorry- what?” He asked, eyes flickering between the two before they settled on Peter and realization registered in his tired brown eyes. “Oh-  _ oh,  _ you heard? How-How much?” 

Peter nodded, and Tony drug a hand down his face with a loud sigh. “Listen-“ 

“I don’t want your excuses or lies,” Peter cut him off quickly, before Tony could abuse his heart with the words Peter so desperately wanted to hear, “I just want to know where  _ we’re _ going,” 

“To Germany,” Rhodey said before Tony could attempt to detour the conversation once again. “Fury was instructed to bring you, a legally undocumented asset, to Germany so you can sign the accords and officially become part of the avengers.” 

Peter’s brows furrowed and he broke free from Nat, a little hurt, to move a step towards Rhodey and, ultimately, towards Tony. “Undocumented? I’ve been working for you guys for- god, years. And Fury enlisted my help recently, under the radar but still legitimate work. I wouldn’t say I’m undocumented, or unofficially an Avenger.” 

“They didn’t mean it like that, Pete,” Nat said, and she spoke in a soft, raspy voice that often reminded him of May- the tone reassuring and gentle, like she was talking him off the edge with an assurance that it was going to work. That it would always go her way. “To us, to Fury, you’re as much an Avenger as any of us. But to the government? The scared old men and women? You’re a powerful being without registered powers. They have no idea the restraints or health risks you pose. You’re one of your kind, and after Venom they became scared.” 

“So, what? I go to Germany and sign a few documents? Become an official Avenger?” He rounded on Tony, figuring the man's growing distaste for him must have had some anxiety fueling his earlier words. He sounded too.. upset for it to just be a casual hatred for Peter and their baby. It sounded like he was genuinely worried. “why don’t you want me to go?” 

“You want the truth?” Tony asked, and Peter stilled when Tony’s eyes found his. He nodded, breath held, figuring it was time he heard him out rather than just assuming what Tony meant from a partial conversation he heard. “Signing the accords is more than just registering yourself as an avenger. You’re offering yourself over to the government. You’re required to offer dna samples, power analysis’ which will, by the way, categorize your threat level and determine if you're a worthy asset or not. With your dna, they will then tear apart your unique structures and develop serums to not only dampen your powers, but potentially cure you. You will register as a threat to them. They don’t care if you are trying to save the world; You. Are. Dangerous. Point blank.” 

He sniffed, swiped at his nose and kicked up off the wall to pace the floor. His eyes never left Peter’s. He lifted a hand, forearm tensing with a finger pointed at Peter and he ignored how his stomach clenched when he saw how tightly the material clung to Tony’s bicep 

“If they decide you’re worth enough to keep around, you’ll be chain and gagged. They’ll give you a bracelet designed with my nano-technology and they’ll track your every movement. You are prohibited from accepting a mission, or helping the public, without their direct permission. You’re signing away your freedom and everything that makes you New York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.” 

Tony’s gaze dropped into a low-heated stare and Peter felt his blood boil beneath his skin. 

“And if I refuse? They’re aware I’m here now- they can’t just pretend like I don’t exist anymore. They have to acknowledge me, right? I can’t- I can’t just go back to being the way I was?” 

The silence that followed was deafening and terrifying. It spoke volume; dug up everything they were hiding in the shadows and refused to say. Nat remained silent, and Rhodey looked down at the floor.

Peter felt his eyes well with tears, his hand caressing the underneath of his belly. “What happens to me, Tony?” 

“You’ll be treated like a threat, detained and moved to a facility where you will be imprisoned until they can decide what to do with you. You will be a prisoner of the US government indefinitely.”

Panic stabbed at his chest. “And my baby?” 

Tony looked away and Nat laid a hand on his shoulder- neither a comforting action. “Go, Peter, sign the accords. We all have.” 

Peter kept his eyes locked on Tony, hating how hours ago he was establishing his own independence and now a minor setback had erased all of that and made him, once more, dependent and desperate for Tony’s approval. For his decision. 

“Why don’t you want me to sign?” Peter asked, and Tony’s eyes snapped to him. 

His chest deflated and his face fell. It looked as if he wanted to tell Peter so much;  _ everything,  _ but nothing wanted to come out. He went to reach out, but abandoned part way through the movement and the distance looked to psychically pain him. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t  _ move _ beyond that. And Peter’s decision was made. 

Peter scoffed. “I’ll go, and I’ll sign,” 

“Peter, wai-“ 

“Stop it, Tony. I’m going and that’s my final decision.” 

“I promise you it’s the best solution for you,” Rhodey said, and Peter knew he was trying to be encouraging and ease his anxiety but Peter couldn’t shake the dread that was settling over his shoulders and sinking hot and heavy in his gut. 

“I don’t care about me,” Peter said, shaking his head. He realized how pathetic he looked, standing there waiting for Tony’s acknowledgement, so he sucked up his pride and turned towards Nat. “My baby is my number one priority. They want to take away my identity- everything that makes me unique? Let them. They can take away Spider-Man- but they try to touch my baby, and it will be the last thing they do.” 

A few fucking humans were nothing compared to the God of Thunder, and that man happened to be his baby’s god father. 

_ That _ was the only thought that gave Peter enough courage and peace of mind. Bypassing Nat, he touched her arm on his way and by the time he reached his room the first tear was falling down his cheek. 

Set back after set back, yet he was always required to stay strong and appear unfazed otherwise everyone feared he was too weak and couldn’t handle anything. 

But he could do this. 

He was Peter fucking Parker, first and foremost. That was all that mattered. Surely the US Government was nothing compared to what he’s faced thus far? 

—-

Noise canceling headphones were a blessing, and a curse. Left with nothing but silence, so the ocean waves of blood slamming against your ear drums had nothing to contend with, meant there was nothing truly there to be offered as a distraction. Your mind insisted on being put to use rather than laid dormant and Peter hated it. How, despite his best efforts, Tony was still so heavily on his mind Peter couldn’t get the feeling of the man's hands off of his body, out of his mind. Each touch was an imprinted memory and with just a slight extension of his acknowledgment, he could feel the ghosts of fingers and the press of lips. 

And he hated how positively his body reacted. How his blood pounded through his veins; how his heart hammered and his core clenched as his body simultaneously relaxed beneath the absent-touches. He was responsive to a ghost and with a sudden jolt, all was forgotten as he was drug back to the present as the rough drag of his scratchy blanket replaced the hands and the vibration of the jet was like a soft hum ecompasing his body. 

He was alone in his seat, the ones surrounding him vacant with the lights dimmed to the lowest setting possible before they became entirely nonexistent, and he knew they’d done that intentionally for his sake and while he was partially grateful, he was more annoyed than anything. He hated being coddled and treated like an infant just because he was carrying a baby. Matter of fact, he was surprised Bruce wasn’t here checking up on him yet. It took hours of convincing him it was safe before he agreed Peter could be cleared for flight. 

He had no immediate medical issues, aside from his dehydration and anxiety that they’d gotten under control. The dehydration, anyhow. Bruce was still working on the anxiety meds, but he was fine. Bruce just liked to take worrying to the extreme. 

Uncrunching his body, Peter allowed his curled legs to stretch in front of him as he removed the headphones, one side at a time to slowly reintroduce himself to the sounds and not be overwhelmed by the loud volumes, and was greeted by the low murmur of a conversation. Curious, he stood to investigate, hands rubbing across his arms as he attempted to shake off the not-dream but more day-dream/memory induced fantasy. It was hard to forget, and even harder to remember if it had been real or not. The love Tony had professed that night. 

Every night, actually. 

“He threw an entire desk at me- or rather Hulk,” Bruce said, highly amused with laughter creeping into his words and he fought off a chuckle, knowing how serious the moment was even as he tried stifling it into his hand as he wiped off his mouth and held up a finger. “But that isn’t the best- he broke  _ Steve’s  _ arm. Mr. invincible was crushed by a puny spider,” 

“That isn’t fair. I didn’t want to hurt him- I was taking it easy and had been caught off guard,” Steve argues, and Bucky murmured in agreement for Steve’s pride and petted at his arm. 

That set the entire group off, and Peter’s sensitive ears were greeted by a chorus of blended laughter, all clear expressions of pure joy, and he fought off his own smile tugging at his lips. For an event that was so dauntingly awaiting their arrival to Germany in Twenty minutes, they effortlessly erased his anxiety and worry and it was indirect and unintentionally. 

Them recounting his stories weren’t for his benefit, after all. 

He slowly slid open the curtain meant to separate each side of the jet; him previously being towards the tail with the rest of them clumped together towards the front. Immediately, the blue light from a holo screen slid across the floor and flooded his once dark room with the images of him, in the venom suit, drunkenly stumbling his way from a man hanging from a street lamp. 

Tony, who sat in the lone chair across from the wrap around couch, seemed the to be controlling the holographic screen and he swiped right, everyone suddenly going silent with the humor gone when it changed imagery and focused on a shitty recording of Peter dangling from the side of a building. 

“Friday, increase video quality and brighten the screen,” Tony instructed, and a few silent moments later the grainy images came into focus and the black streets brightened to a dull grey just in time for Peter to watch, in hd quality, as a knife- the stupid chiaturi knife, slammed into his shoulder and he cringed. Watched as it embedded into his flesh and jerked his entire body in that direction. 

Nobody said anything when he lost his grip on the building, and seemingly his consciousness if his rolling eyes were any indication, and began to fall from stories high. And just before he met his demise, he was lifting a languid arm and at the last second he was flicking a web and jarring himself to the side with a harshness that made his body abnormally bend and flop into the movement. 

His breath was held and his eyes flicked to Tony, curious of his reaction. The man looked conflicted, deeply pained and terrified but absolutely livid. His eyes were hard but… 

“God, I can’t believe how much damage they did before anybody showed up to help him,” Sam said, and despite the vacant look in his eye as he gazed into the distant screen, Steve gave a huff in agreement with sharp fingers digging into the meat on his forearm- almost as if he was rubbing away the memory of the pain Peter had caused him. Of how he’d been broken by the spider, yet the itsy bitsy spider couldn’t even handle three chitauri. 

How pathetic. 

The moment was somber, and Tony fixed his posture with a sigh. “He doesn’t get why I’m worried,” Tony said, kicking his feet up on the table that was sat in the midst of the group who were, humorously, huddled together on the secluded couch that was so large all of them could sit comfortably without touching each other. He too had a distant look, a cup of honey colored liquid with condensation collecting at the lip of the glass pressed to his forehead. 

They were reliving all of Peter’s mistakes and he remembered the pain and the anxiety, could feel the memories suffocating him as he watched the Chitauri slam into him and his body went soaring through the glass. It was oddly beautiful to watch as it explodes around his body. He can’t truly say he didn’t understand Tony’s worry when he was standing here watching this, because the sight alone made him want to forever stay cocooned in a safety net. 

“Because you have a weird way of showing worry,” Nat said, and Peter looked at her through the thick curtain and was surprised to find she wasn’t watching the screen. She was instead studying her red-painted fingernails. “It’s not a lack of understanding on his part, it’s a lack of communication on yours. Tell him why you’re scared. That not even you can fight them if they decide Peter is seen as a threat.” 

Tony licked at his lips and Peter followed the movement, well too aware of how creepy he was, hiding in the shadows and not making his presence known as he eye-fucked the center of the group but, then again, he didn’t typically do things others would like. Half of his life was spent doing the exact opposite, actually. May could attest to that. 

_ That’s  _ what Tony wanted to say. Peter felt like an ass for not offering him a chance to speak. 

Peter couldn’t see Tony’s face from his perspective, as the man turned to face the screen more fully, but he could see his shoulders tense. “He wouldn’t understand my reasonings,” 

“Reasonings for what?” Nat pressed. 

“Lots of things; everything- nothing. I can’t tell him why I’m doing what I’m doing because he would never agree with it or understand. I can’t-“ he immediately shut up, not finishing his thought. 

On the screen, the camera focused on the crouching Chiaturi who stood outside of the shop with spiderwebs encasing his one wrist and tracing his spine. He was preparing to lung, with Peter stood gimpy in front of him, leaning heavily on one side because his entire calf had been on fire and he was bloody- pajamas torn, face cut up and bruised, shoulder oozing blood- but he stood tall and defiant and  _ ready.  _ And Peter knew why Tony suddenly grew silent. 

A second later, just as the chiaturi’s foot left the ground as he lunged at Peter, a flash of Gold and Red was slamming into his body and they both disappeared in a blur. 

Peter watched on, as did all of them, and he hated how completely bare his face was when he dropped to his knees outside of that store, glass crunching beneath his knees and surrounding him like a quilt of destruction. He hated how thrilled and relieved he looked; how smitten he appeared even with pain drawing his eyebrows to a pinched congregation above his nose and his lips in a thin line. He was naked; in love, and everybody could see that as his bloody lips moved, saying something nobody could hear, and fell just in time for gold arms to encase his body. Peter doesn’t remember this part, but Tony was airborn the second after he caught them and with them both safely in the sky, he disappeared just as quickly as he’d appeared. 

Peter cradled in his arms like a bride and the video drew to a standstill. 

Peter’s last words before he’d succumbed to the darkness was a mystery all of them were curious of- he could read it on their faces, yet none of them would ever know what he said. 

Only him, and Tony. Judging by the sag of Tony’s shoulders, he remembered. 

_ Tony, you came.  _

Oh how Peter had oozed desperation and relief. 

He shuddered at the memory, tried shaking off the creeping emotions hovering over him like a black cloud waiting to be popped. And for the first time since that day, he wondered what had been going through Tony’s mind. What he’d been thinking when he had to rescue Peter because of his incompetence. His stupidity and recklessness. 

Over and over and over again. Perhaps it was stupid for Peter to become an avenger? Dangerous on all their parts. 

“Has anyone explained to him the protocol he’ll have to follow now? Following his trip from Germany?” Steve asked, worried dad persona back in place and he too looked genuinely disturbed by what he’d just witnessed. 

Tony shook his head. “I tried. Nat and Rhodey made it sound like rainbows and fucking butterflies and the kid doesn’t want to talk to me.” 

“You’ve given him the cold shoulder, Tony,” Nat reminded him with a very characteristic sigh and eye roll. “And he understands what he’s getting himself into. No more solo Spider-Man. Tony told him he’ll have to essentially abandon his New York gig now that he’s technically playing with the big boys.” 

With  _ the _ big boys? Peter scoffed, hurt stabbing his heart. 

“Does anyone even know what led them to insisting Peter sign the accords? They’ve been aware of his presence back on earth for a year. Why the sudden interest in him?” Clint asked. 

“It’s a safety net,” Tony explained, and there was more. But when silence followed, it was clear he wasn’t going to explain anything any further. 

Clint raises an imprint eyebrow, attempting to get Tony to enlighten them. “Okay, Mr. Vague?” 

“What do you know Tony?” Wanda questioned, digging her heels Into the sofa so she could rock forward and pin Tony with her scrutinizing eyes; sleep encrusting the rim of her eyes to give them a tired squint but it did little to curb the intensity. 

Sighing, Tony brushed his hands down his knees- glass left to balance on the arm of his chair, and stood with a clap of his hands. “Nothing that’s any of your business.” He waved away the holo screen. “It’s between me and Fury.”

And as if his eyes had been drawn to the exact location, Tony lifted his gaze to level with Peter’s own and he offered a tired, soft smile. Fleeting in its existence, with the corners barely flickering light into his eyes, but it still passed with an intensity and Peter felt its intention of soothing reassurance without words ever being offered. 

It lasted all but three seconds, then Tony was reigning it back in and shaking his head. “You’re up,” he said, and the way he said it left little misreading of the relief he obviously felt. His shoulders lost a bit of its tense structure as he sagged forward and scooped his cup back up, cradling it in gentle fingers with a ringed finger tapping against the chilled glass. “You see it?” 

He was calling Peter out, on more things than he’d honestly prefer, but he couldn’t just hide and pretend he hadn't noticed the acknowledgement on his creeping. He’d been caught- again. He  _ really  _ needs to learn how to be covert. 

Peter’s eyes minutely flickered to the place where the holographic screen had just been, and with his eyes adjusting to the light, when he blinked he could still see the blue lighting as if it were still there, plastered in mid-air for all to see his weakness bared on his face. His emotions, so naked- so honest, so  _ Tony-  _ as he decided on it he should answer truthfully or lie. 

“Why were you watching it?” He finally decided, and with his presence being called forth, he opened the curtain fully and walked into the room. Wanda smiles sleepily over at him and opened her cocoon of blankets, offering him the cushioned seat next to her- sandwiched between her and Nat. 

He shook his head, but smiled to curb the rejection and soften it as he looked Tony directly in the eyes and sat in the chair he’d just abandoned, occupying the space that still reeked heavily of Tony despite the man, technically, being all machine. People were amazed with that feat, had been the first week when they noticed Tony’s skin retracted scents and could generate his own. They seemed to forgot he wasn’t a robot. Cut open, his bones were real. He had meat and flesh; bled like Nat and retained sweat like Thor. He was  _ human.  _

The increased thump of his heart, immediately following the spastic jump from Peter’s movements and unfournseen boldness, certainly pared in his favor. Scream human, and Peter hid his smile behind his faux casualness as he pulled his knees to his chest, belly barely hiding behind the thick thighs. 

“We were studying you,” Tony answered in everyone else’s silence, and Peter assumed they were granting him redemption. Allowing him to explain so as to not seem a coward or hide. Nat’s pointed look rooted Tony in place, inches in front of Peter, where the boy could perfectly see the way his pulse point jumped beneath his tan skin. 

_ Thump _

He paired the visual with the sound of his heart. 

_ Thump _ . “Preparing for what will be brought to our attention before the accords signing when we’re being briefed. We don’t want to be surprised by anything.” Tony noticed Peter’s gaze at the exact moment he finished speaking, and Peter relished in how his Adam’s apple bobbed. 

_ Thump, thump _

_ So, close proximity was still an obvious trigger?  _

“Surprised by my past missions?” Peter asked, his eyebrow drawn up to hide beneath the messy overlap of his fringe that hung over his forehead. He couldn’t be bothered to fix his sleep-mused do. He hummed thoughtfully. “Nothing, aside from the last video you watched, is immediately alarming. You should just be thankful you revoked privileges to my suit when I was fifteen otherwise we might have video footage of a building falling on me. I could only imagine how grossly they’d over play that situation and how negligent they would make me seem- as well as you guys.” He sucked on his teeth. 

Tony blanched at the reminder, of the reminder on the first night he’d truly let Peter down and hadn’t been there to save him to no one's fault but his own stubbornness. The kid had almost died, could have, and nobody would have known. 

“What about the night the Chitauri kidnapped you?” Nat asked, elbows digging into her knees as she leaned forward. 

“Yeah,” Clint pipped in, “didn’t they post a listing for you? An ad of sorts? If we had access to that, Fury especially, then they definitely got their hands on it as well.”

“And the footage of Peter being taken,” Bruce said, absentmindedly as he distractedly taped away at his iPad screen, previous reverie forgotten. “That’s been blasted across social media multiple times, despite Pepper's best attempt at getting rid of it. I think she discovered some news station has a hard copy or something, but we should definitely prepare for the chastising on that.” 

“My professionalism is going to be questioned because I was kidnapped?” Peter asked, perplexed by the insinuation. 

“Everything you do will be questioned-dissected,” Nat said sympathetically, “regardless on how many children you managed to save, you’re still representing a name- a brand, and a poor reflection on their team is a poor reflection on their leadership skills. One weak link and they cut their losses to ensure the entire thing doesn’t crumble like a game of dominos. If they decide you are more trouble than your worth, which isn’t the case considering you were formally invited to sign rather than just summoned for interrogation- then they will cut you off. As Tony was warning you of earlier.” 

Peter chewed his lip, anxiety blossoming in the middle of his chest in a suffocating ball that extended with each breath, and he looked to Tony for comfort. “Will it matter?” Peter asked, fear evident in the fearful track of his eyes across Tony’s face- in search of even a little reassurance. The ‘ _ it’ _ in question wasn't even questioned, as Tony’s eyes immediately found the swell of Peter’s stomach; hidden behind his knees. 

His hardened gaze softened into a pool of brown goo and Peter knew then, whatever has been going on between them, was all a show. A facade. Tony still  _ cared _ , it was so fucking  _ obvious  _ and it he thought he needed to assert any level of distance between them, it was probably for a  _ really  _ good reason. A reason Peter would possibly never understand, but the discovery of Tony’s standing was alarmingly thrilling and Peter’s body was suddenly alight with this childish glee, demanding he get up and dance and move and  _ squeal.  _

His wavering will power managed to keep it reigned in and in check- barely. 

Tony looked alarmed when he caught Peter’s eye, and in the brief contact Peter knew that he knew he had been caught, but the man offered one single nod and that was all the reassurance he needed.  _ Tony didn’t hate him _ . “They are aware of your pregnancy, and I made it abundantly clear that the child was not to be touched or even factored into it in anyway. You will be signing and joining as a sole person- you will be tested and trialed after you deliver and the baby will  _ never _ be an asset to them.” 

Peter smiled, eyes going all round and gooey. “Thank you.” 

Any more he wanted to say would have to wait, because the sudden shifting of the jet was brought to their attention and an overhead voice told them they would be landing in three minutes. 

Clapping his hands, and taking lead, Tony once again abandoned his alcoholic beverage on a lone counter top, the ice now creating a thin layer of water on top that was grossly visible to Peter’s eyes and he smugly noticed the cup was still mostly full. He instructed everyone to gather their items, and with one last look at Peter, that lingered for a few seconds too long, he was parting ways and going in the direction of his own overhead luggage. 

Peter’s had been a simple small bag that had his laptop, a sweater of Tony’s and a few snacks tucked away in it. Deciding to wait until the very last possible second, Peter pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through all of his notifications, positing a quick photo of the messy interior of the jet with Clint’s apple core, Wanda’s mug and a few other random items left strewn across the table, sofa and floor in view with a simple caption of “Germany Bound,” posted along with it. 

He was going to click out if it when Loki’s name caught his eye and clicking the notification, it pulled up his message icon and thirteen chat bubbles highlighted. The last one immediately caught Peter’s eye. 

_ I wasn’t able to find anything immediately alarming on his person. However, I did dig up a few facts worth questioning. I sent them, along with a few contact numbers for you to call in case you need further questions and I am not immediately available. I am not entirely sure of his intentions, but a man who did not exist, or had no paper trail whatsoever, prior to a year ago certainly can’t have anything good coming of his presence. I have extended my earth knowledge as far as I can, but I will continue my search. I can’t promise you anything soon. I do hope it is nothing to worry about. Take care, and I will reach out when I have more.  _

Peter scrolled up, and looked over the few numbers with zero instructions on who they belonged to, and moved a little further up to study the photos sent. 

He opened one, where Michael’s face was contorted like that of a half creature/half human fighting for dominance, resembling hulk when he was fighting for dominance in Banner and only managed a half/face transformation before he was shoved back down, and was immediately caught Peter’s eye was the three sharp gills stabbing out of his neck; obvious and slanted, with a purple eye fighting into focus as it contended with the white of his eye. The skin tucked beneath the human flesh was a sickly grey color with dark blue chunks slashed through the skin to create a sort of tiger-print. 

Peter’s stomach sank at the sight. 

He’d never seen anything like it, and given Loki’s vague caption with the photo- “not entirely sure this isn’t doctored just yet. A PI I hired took it, but he was desperate for a pay so I’m sure he would do anything needed to acquire money. Do not worry just yet. We will figure it out soon and I will update you.” It didn’t settle or answer anything. 

It was reassuring that Loki was still willing to help Peter despite Tony’s over reaction to their friendship. 

Checking the time receipts, Peter was a little worried these had been sent over two hours ago and he’d yet to get another response but he couldn’t message Loki and implore a response because he was being drug from his thoughts by Bruce walking into view. 

“Ready Peter?” He asked, his smile was too big. 

Peter clutched his phone tightly in his hand and offered his own large, forced smile. “I was born ready.” 

He turned the phone on silent and stood, just barely missing the notification from Loki with a video linked. 

_ Most definitely not doctored. The photo is authentic and I’m quite certain of his breed. I will have to consult a friend of mine, but assure me you will not be in his presence, Peter. He is a dangerous creature who should not be messed with. He enjoys a game and I fear you are trapped in the center of one of his largest plots yet.  _

Message sent: 12:35 a.m 

And by 12:40, when Peter was off the jet and in the back of a suv, the message was gone. His phone notifications had been wiped clean and there was no evidence Loki had texted him. Offering Peter no warning. 

And giving him no foresight to exactly what he is dealing with. 


	6. Nothing will ever change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you, I'm back for good now. ;) I am SO happy that I am able to bring you this chapter less than a week after posting the last one. I understand Peter's and Tony's relationship is always hot and cold, and that there is a lot of running around, but I promise it will be explained in much more depth later on. There is a reason for everything, is there not? ;)   
Anywho, I hope you are enjoying the slow build! Next chapter are where the cards start to fall into place. There will be some action, and some reflection on Tony's actions. Maybe we will finally be able to see why he's acting the way that he is? Hmm...
> 
> Continue on, lovelies. 
> 
> Much love, 
> 
> Xx

Navigating the private area of the airport had been easy, considering they received exclusive access to the airports runways and commodities, which consisted entirely of stale black coffee, which Bruce forbid Peter of drinking, and a sad looking town-car to take their luggage in so they didn’t have to deal with the public and the general frenziness that usually stirred at the mention of their appearance. 

They all separated into the two black SUV’s that had apparently been awaiting their arrival, and Peter felt a little dejected when Tony parted ways from the group and immediately took up residency in the front seat of the first car, but to soften the blow of rejection Nat and Wanda were by Peter’s sides in an instant and he was led to the second car with his empty paper cup crushed in his hand.

He truly didn’t understand why Bruce was denying him every single thing that was an actual advantage to living in today’s society. Shit airport coffee, unhealthy food, extreme anxiety that you could hide behind your usual jitteriness. The list never ended.

“Are you nervous?” Nat asked him. She was sitting on his right, by the door, with Wanda on his left. He’d unfairly been shoved in the middle and he was wondering if it was truly for his safety or if they just despised the squished-zone. She bumped him with her elbow and Peter turned his attention to her, trying to focus on the green of her eyes rather than the memory of his phone. 

“Not really. I’m fine,” he lied, picking at the flap he'd formed on his paper cup as he slowly started to unravel it. Clearly he wasn’t fine, if his nervous picking wasn’t obvious. “Just thinking about May.”

Nat nodded, a look as close to sympathetic she could muster contorting her features but she abandoned it with a grimace. May and her were not on the best of terms, or so he has heard through the grapevine. May grossly blamed Nat for Peter’s disappearance after the snap, claiming she expected the recklessness from Tony but she had held Nat to higher standards. Peter didn’t agree with it, and had only found out recently when MJ had informed him during one of their nightly texts, but he vowed to correct it. He hated he was the reason for the split between them, the feeling of distaste and alienated tension. He was relieved they had worked it out somewhat, though, and could now be in a room together. 

“I’m sure she would love for you to visit when we go home,” Wanda swooped in, saving Nat from further embarrassing herself with her poorly masked emotions which- what was that? Was it intentional, or had something happened? Crumbling Nat’s usual perfect composure? Shaking her foundation so much she couldn’t manage to hide a single expression.

Peter watched her for a second, assessing. “I want to visit her before the baby comes.”

Wow, wasn’t that strange to say? To hear? The fact that he was carrying an actual living, breathing thing was so foerign to him. It was as invigorating to realize as it was the first day. The acknowledgment still made his lips tingly and his tummy flutter and he grinned at the feeling, palm resting lightly over his belly button. 

He wished more than anything Tony could feel the excited flutters through his belly. 

Nat pursed her lips and seemed to forget, or rather abandoned, their original topic of conversation as she turned bright eyes down to Peter’s bump. “Have you decided what you’ll do once you have him?”

Peter’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you staying at the compound or moving back home with May? Tony-”

“Tony is still the father,” Peter cut her off, a twinge of anxiety slicing through his chest because had Tony put her up to this? Was she asking him his intentions because they have already all decided for him? Was he not welcomed anymore? “I-I want to stay at the tower.”

“We would never,” Wanda gasped, hurt, and when they turned to look at her she was gazing at Peter with a look of utter betrayal. “Do you honestly think so little of them? Me? I would never conspire behind your back, Peter. I wouldn’t do that to you,”

Wanda, of all people, understood Peter in a way he never craved to be understood. She understood the dark, decrepit, broken parts of him that could never be repaired. She understood his reasoning for space, for that added layer of protection he surrounded himself with and allowed very little to penetrate. She understood his constant obsession with simple emotions and thoughts. She understood, because in a sense, she’s experienced it all as well. The pain of the world. 

Peter hated himself for losing control of his thoughts around her, for giving her a chance to read what was so desperately attacking his mind and demanding he feel even if it wasn’t true. “I’m sorry.” he whispered. 

Wanda wrapped an arm around his shoulder and there was a calm vibration that glided across his skin, enveloping his body with a warmth that touched the core of his being and with a shuddered sigh, he sagged into her, into the feeling, and allowed her to use her powers to manipulate his emotions if only for a few seconds of silence. 

“Your home is with us. Never forget that.” Wanda placed a kiss on his forehead, and it heightened the sensations, magnifying them to heights that nearly overwhelmed his sensitive body, but she somehow read him so intunely and kept them at an even level. 

It was an odd feeling, though. Wanda has never directly used his power against him, yet the probing of it felt familiar. Like he has experienced it before, but where her’s was a cautious, questioning probe that was almost asking permission, the one before had been demanding and unrelenting. He remembers it slicing across his skin, looking for the weakest point and, suppressing a shudder, he wonders what would have happened if he had granted it access. 

Then it dawned on him the exact time and place it had happened. “Do you guys remember Michael?” he asked, suddenly darting up and at the loss of contact with Wanda, the calmness seeped away and he was left with a chill he was sure a blanket wouldn’t touch. 

Nat and Wanda shared a look over his head, a look he was sure he wasn’t supposed to see, but he was too focused on the task at hand to care what they thought. He pulled his phone from his pocket, opened Loki’s contact with the intention of showing them the photo he had been sent, only to open up a completely empty thread. There were no messages, no back and forth communication with photos and warnings. There was… nothing. 

Was he truly going insane?

“No- there should-”

“Relax, Pete, we’re at the hotel and if Bruce see’s you near hyperventilating, or Tony hears you’re speaking of Michael again, who knows what the knuckleheads will do,” and there was that look, sympathetic. Mastered now, touched with a hint of unsureness yet he could still see the intent behind it. She thought he was crazy, too. All their history given, and he still wasn’t being trusted.

But it was fine. He could do this alone. Prove it alone. 

“You’re right,” he sighed, giving in with little persuasion because he knew if he kept on the subject, they very well may lock him up. He wouldn’t put it above Tony to have him committed, or, at the very least, locked up in the compound with a trained psychiatrist there to dissect his every thought. 

He didn’t understand why his phone was blank, all evidence of his and Loki’s conversation gone, but he wasn’t too worried. He had a remote server that was directly linked to his cell phone. Every single text, call or email he received was uploaded there. It was different from the one where Tony’s mind-bank was stored, however it was just as secure.

Gathering their items, Nat, Peter and Wanda- Peter with a measly paper cup, exited the car.

The last thing Peter expected to see when he reemerged into society and was deposited back onto solid ground, with the SUV disappearing from behind him, was Pepper freaking Potts standing guard at the front door entrance of their big, grand hotel. Peter rolled his eyes, because of course Tony couldn’t do one single task without Pepper being directly behind him.

Answering his every beck and call, condoning his every every whim. He’s heard how pepper used to be his sanity, there to calm him when lucidity was absent as he trekked through the tower on a mindless tyrant. On how it was her who had convinced him to save his life when he was being poisoned with the first arc reactor. She was the main focal point in every story Peter has ever heard about Tony, and he wonders if years from now he will hold as significant of a role in the man's life as she still does. As prominent. 

With the way Tony was watching him, rather than her, Peter truly hopes so. He can feel the man's eyes on his skin, across his body, assessing his movements and the languitidy of his steps before he seemed pleased with what he saw. He changed, too. In the short car ride, his lax attire was now something more appropriate, if not still a little strange for a man of his standing. The white shirt was pulled taunt across his chest and Peter’s gut ached, fingers twitching at his side, wanting to touch. But then he noticed something, and as the thought passed through his head, Tony was reaching up and scratching the smooth canvas of where his arc reactor used to rest. It was absent now, the missing presence evident in the vacant look of Tony’s eyes, the ones still locked on Peter’s body, and he wonders if Tony blamed him? For everything? 

He’d left the bread crumbs, parcel’s of technology meant for his resurrection but had he truly wanted to come back? To a life that changed so quickly and advanced so rapidly with a child being thrown into the already chaotic mixture? Or had he wanted to stay at peace, knowing he’d brought justice to his name- died a hero? Peter finds it odd he’d never considered it before, never once wondered if Tony’s distaste for the world was Peter’s doing. 

“Peter.” Pepper calls his name, breaking him from the trance of Tony’s gaze, and it turns out his ogling session hadn’t gone unnoticed because she smiled, averted her eyes to Tony, then returned them to Peter. There was pity in her eyes, tainted with a sense of understanding, and he forgot that regardless of what the media has said/played up, her and Tony were ancient history. She probably understood what Peter was going through currently better than anyone ever could. She wasn’t his enemy. If anything, she has proven to be his strongest ally. 

She gestured for him to come over, so he complied to the silent command and scurried to her side, tugging at the hem of his hoodie on instinct. His pregnancy may be public now, but it didn’t take away actions that had been grained inside his memory. He hides for his protection. That will never change. 

“Were you going to discuss your surprise appearance with me? Or let me piece it together by the numerous news articles that have been published about you?” She asked, and there was a fire in her eyes he feared, a look that reminded him that she had no powers but that didn’t mean she was powerless. She had a strength none of them had, and it was so easy to forget when she was so humble despite her numerous successes, despite having solely rebuilt Stark towers while Tony was out playing hero. 

“I-” Peter choked. 

“Save it, Spidey.” Pepper said, taking pity. “Had you come to me prior to this decision, we could have discussed the pros and cons of such an announcement. Luckily for you, the fan base you have amassed seems to support you regardless of your unique situation. You are a trending topic right now.” she reached for her phone, but Peter touched her elbow and shook his head. She nodded, and slowly pulled her hands away. “There are some things we still need to discuss, however well or successful your news has been.”

“Like?”

Her eyes darted to Tony for the slightest second, and it was then Peter remembered they were still standing outside of a hotel, huddled together like a group of tourists. He smiled wryly. If only they were granted such a luxury.

“Perhaps we should discuss this inside?” she asked, and he didn’t know if she was doing it for his benefit or because she knew Tony wouldn’t approve of her talking to him alone. The man was distracted now, however, and Peter saw no harm in it so he followed her despite a tingle racing up his spine, warning him not of danger, but of his overqualified anxiety. 

She led him into a large Foyer, and normally he would be stunned by the sheer beauty of it, of modern design twining with the antique uniqueness of the original decor of the building, with a ancient chandelier casting hundreds of rainbows across the white wall, adding color to the white-washed, otherwise pristine interior, but he has grown overly cautious to reacting to things while in public, especially considering the people who usually accompanied him grew tired of his childish glee. This was normal to them- he needed to get used to it, too.

Employees were navigating the room deftly, none offering Pepper more than a glance before they continued on their way, leaving them with the silence as the door swished closed and effectively cut off the outside world. There was still a low humming in here, voices and dishes and the click of high heels brushing his ears in gentle reminder of the life that continues on around them.

Pepper gestured towards the creme colored furniture offered for their convenience, but Peter shook his head and reamined where he was, close to the exit in case the conversation prompted a quick escape. She sighed, but clasped her handbag beneath her arm and focused on him with an intensity that caused his skin to burst into a hundred little flames, different from Tony’s gaze. Far more intense, and not as gratifying. 

“For reasons I hope you understand, Tony can not be seen in public with you unless you are accompanied by two or more members of the team.”

His heart stopped.

“I understand-” It was a lie but his throat was swelling shut. Being told he couldn’t be alone with Tony was far too familiar, and the claws of Thanos’ planet were threatening to dredge him beneath their current. 

“It is for your benefit,” Pepper said, alarm alighting her eyes. She reached for him, but he turned his body from her touch and sniffled, attempting to hold back his tears. A poor effort, he knew. “Tony hasn’t exactly been shy about his sexuality, or his fondness of you. Given your most recent announcement, speculation will arise and we can not afford another scandal-”

“I understand,” Peter cut her off once more, hoping to convey that although he didn’t entirely understand, he also didn’t want to. He was sure if Nat emerged with the news that she was pregnant, Pepper wouldn’t immediately remind her that she needed to assert a distance between herself and Tony for their public appearance. Because Peter liked men, and Tony happened to, too, it immediately incriminated them. However true the allegations were, apparently they were not welcomed. 

He was of-age now. Where was the harm of their relationship surfacing? He knew some would have problems, but at the end of the day it was entirely up to them. He was old enough to decide who he did and did not fuck.

“Is that all?” Peter subtly wiped at the damp corner of his eye, watching as a bellboy moved passed them with what appeared to be his and Nat’s luggage.

Pepper nodded, took something from her bag, and handed it to him. “I arrived here earlier this morning and managed to request the entire penthouse for your privacy. Your rooming alone, suite closest to the elevator. Go get some rest. We won’t be going to dinner for a few more hours.”

It was his room key, and Peter closed his hand into a fist before brushing past her. But before he could fully reach the elevator doors, he was turning to Pepper. “I truly hope nobody ever requested you to hide your relationship for the sole purpose of a public appearance. Does Tony know? And if he does, does he truly believe I am not yet worthy to be seen hanging from his arm like you once did?” Peter knew he was being entirely unfair, and Pepper was doing this for their protection, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. It still burned, to know your literal presence was an anchor and would only completely obliterate the others reputation.

Pepper opened her mouth to speak, but Peter raised his hand just as the elevator dinged and a bellboy walked out. “Save it. I don’t think I want to know.”

He didn’t want to know if Tony’s distance lately was for preparation of this trip. If he ignored the urges for a week, asserted enough space between them, then it wouldn’t be too hard to ignore him for just a little longer, right? Was that the logic he was using to excuse his behavior? Did Peter dampen his reputation? As if it wasn’t already tarnished, before. Then again, he has never been in an open relationship with a male before. A mutated male, at the very least.

Peter smiled tiredly at the bellboy, hoping he didn’t see the crystal drops clinging to his eyelashes, and he pressed the button or the penthouse floor. Right before the doors shut, Tony walked into the foyer and they locked eyes through the slit before the metal doors slammed shut with a finality and Peter was left to gaze at his own disheveled appearance. He was a wreck, and he honestly couldn’t blame Tony for not wanting to tether their names together with anymore depth than there was already. He wasn’t the perfectly poised Pepper Potts, after all. 

*

  
  
  
  


Peter was overwhelmed and frustrated. He could feel the angry tears leaving a damp stickiness down his cheeks and he hated it, how fazed he was by such simple interactions. He hated how easily anything Pepper said bothered him. He felt his self control slipping- his body trembling in the most subtlest way but he was aware of it, of the tremor racing down the length of his fingers, and he couldn’t focus on anything but as he attempted to wipe away the offending tears before someone came and investigated his room to ensure he’d made it in safely and saw he wasn’t as strong as he often claimed. 

There was one thing he knew for certain, and it was if there was any falter in one’s composure, it would be questioned until they were absolutely certain he wasn’t going to bleed the moment air hit his exposed nervous system. 

He knows the reason why it bothered him so much was because of who delivered the news. Pepper was the right person to do so, but her past and history with Tony made it that much more bitter because he was aware she never had to endure such a conversation. Sure, she was probably given a talk on her wardrobe, or the dos and don’ts while in the public's eye while in the presence of Tony, but she had never directly been told she could not be seen alone with him because there was a risk of them being photographed or sparking speculation. When her pregnancy with Morgan was announced, he was sure the world had rejoiced at the knowledge that the Stark legacy would live on. Would they react the same way when the news broke that Peter was pregnant with a Stark child, too?

These were the questions that left him bitter. 

Much to his prediction, no sooner did he manage to dry his cheeks and suck up all these rampant emotions, there was a rasp of knuckles across his door. Soft and questioning, gentle yet firm- he knew who it was immediately. He wanted to call out and say he was busy, or that he wasn't in the mood for company. He wanted every excuse not to open the door and face the truths that wait on the other side, but he couldn’t do that. Not to Tony. 

So he banished away his and Pepper’s talk, the thoughts that were constantly circulating throughout his mind, and opened the door in his still wrinkled pajamas, the puffiness of his eyes so evident with each blink he was certain it was noticeable. 

“I thought dinner wasn’t for a few more hours?” he asked, striking a conversation that was innocent enough he hoped Tony didn’t pry too much on why his eyes were slightly swollen. He wanted him to overlook it completely, if possible.

But he was never that lucky. “Have you been crying?” Tony asked, worried. He was in Peter’s room and crowding his space before the boy could properly respond. Peter blinked, opened his mouth to respond and the door was being kicked shut. 

“I-So, dinner. Will we be dining in? Or dining out at a restaurant?” Peter diverted the attention. He already knew they were dining out at some over-glamorous restaurant. ‘Tony’s treat,’ as Nat had put it. A treat he was giving them after a long flight and a preparation to an even longer weekend. 

He spun around and began to busy himself with unpacking his bags, but he didn’t even get it unzipped before Tony was grabbing his wrist. The question was silent, but he heard it. His entire body lit up at the single touch and Peter so badly wanted to lean back into him but he couldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. “What did she say?”

“Please don’t.” he didn’t know if he was pleading for Tony to stop touching him, or to stop asking questions. 

Apparently Tony didn’t either, because his hold on Peter’s wrist grew lax for a second before he was tightening his hold and turning Peter to look at him. “What did she say?” he asked it in a firmer voice, making it clear he wasn’t asking for an answer- he was demanding it. That with or without Peter’s cooperation, he would find out.

Turns out, Peter’s body was asking him to stop touching him because his trembling heightened to extreme heights and he was shivering so violently he was afraid he was having a seizure. “Don’t touch me, please. I will tell you if you don’t touch me.”

Tony let go immediately, but the hurt was an even quicker reaction. It furrowed his brow and had his lips pressing into a straight line. But his eyes- Jesus Christ, his eyes spoke so many words and Peter shut his own to silence them. He- he couldn’t  _ listen  _ to Tony now, not when he was just accepting the distance that needed to be between them.

He’s never once asked Tony to not touch him. Yet, here they stood. So alienated from one another Peter couldn’t stand the close proximity. 

“She told me nothing I’m sure you don't already know.” Peter finally said, regaining enough control that he wasn’t mimicking an excited chihuahua. He didn’t understand why Tony was now suddenly acting so hurt and fazed by the no touching rule when he was the one who initiated it by staying locked up in his lab. He was acting as if nothing happened and Peter was tired of it.

“And what is it I know?” Tony pressed, his annoyance growing.

Peter was  _ so  _ tired of it. “Did you even notice, Tony?” he asked, his voice so soft and hesitant he wasn’t even sure he was speaking but the air leaked out of his lungs so quick with the words he had to force himself to breath in the next inhalation. His lungs rattled with effort. “Did you even notice I moved out of our room? That I set up an entire nursery in my old bedroom with the help of Nat in one day? Or were you so preoccupied with yourself that you haven’t spared me another thought?”

Tony looked taken back by the outburst, but he shook it off just as quickly. “I knew the moment you left,” he said, and Peter didn’t like that look. The dark, hungry look that was penetrating his skin. It was dark and sinister, angry and hurt and interest all crammed into the single fucking gaze and he couldn’t stand it. Tony took a step closer, and Peter shrunk back. Pretending his body wasn’t begging for the man when he was inches away was admittedly hard to ignore. “Do you think I just completely ignored you the entire time I locked myself away? Some things are bigger than just you, Peter. Some things in my life extend beyond-” Tony abruptly cut off and groaned. 

“I monitored you every second of every day. You weren’t eating? I sent someone to your room with a tray of food. I laid with you every single night and before I left, I made sure you were tucked in. Just because you were never aware of my presence, Peter, doesn’t mean I just stopped coming around or caring.” 

“I didn’t- Tony, I didn’t know.” but it made sense now. When Peter was sleeping, he often dreamt of Tony. The mans scent- his presence, his lips across his skin and his hands on his body. It sometimes felt so real it was hard to believe it was really a dream- a dream that was capable of breaking his heart over and over and over again.

“Of course you didn’t. You never asked. You labeled me as the bad guy yet again. I told you when we began this that I would need space, Peter. I trusted we could handle this as adults. I trusted you wouldn’t turn around and think I was doing this to spit you. There wasn’t some big ulterior motive. I needed space to think.”

“Think about what?”

That was a question he wasn’t meant to ask, apparently- or maybe it was the right one, because something flickered across Tony’s orbs, conflict a war around his pupil, but he blinked it away before Peter could question it’s depth. “Nothing. I’ve handled it all. You don’t need to worry about anything.”

“Then why did you get me my own separate room?”

Tony huffed and stepped back, Peter just now noticing the disheveled mess of his hair. It was obvious he had been running his fingers through it, upsetting the usually styled-to-perfection heap of dark brown sand that rest on his head. His shirt was pulled loose, too. The tight material was now oddly loose around his pecs and Peter didn’t know if an anxiety-induced instinct had led him to pulling the material so tight it was now stretched beyond hope, or if something else had happened, but Tony looked far too annoyed for Peter to ask. 

“I’m not going to force myself on you. You are an adult. You want to sleep with me? Ask. You want to room alone? That’s fine. You can’t demand to be treated like an equal, then expect me to assume you want to room with me. I don’t- I don’t know what you want.”

Tony continued to walk backwards, and Peter became painfully aware of how quickly the dependency of his closeness resurfaced. He didn’t care that a blush had crept across his skin at the acknowledgement of his biggest insecurity with himself- that he couldn’t handle their relationship like an adult because he has never been in an adult relationship. He didn’t care that Tony could see his flaws now: his imperfections painted across his skin like an added layer to his identity, because he just wanted the man to prove Pepper wrong. His mind was running in each and every direction but if what Tony was saying was true, then where was the harm in asking for more? In speaking, and thus bringing to life, Peter’s insecurity?

“Why can’t we go public? My pregnancy has already been announced and they-they’re taking it well. So why can’t the world know that it was you, Tony. That you are who I chose.”

Tony went rigid. The panic chased through his eyes and shot down his spine, so palpable Peter was convinced he could cut it. Then there was a look of comprehension that dawned on his face, like reality was finally catching up with Tony and he could sense the true intentions behind Peter’s out-of-the-ordinary request. 

“Pepper,” he breathed out, a tremor dying in his fingers when he brought it up to scratch at his stubbled chin. His lips pursed, and for the first time since entering the room, Tony looked away from Peter and instead focused on the open balcony doors, wind whispering in through the white curtains to lightly part Peter’s hair. It was a ghost of a touch as it ruffled through his hair, across his skin in a gentle caress, and Tony seemed to be more focused on the horizon than he was on the man across from him, arched back forcing his large stomach to become even more prominent as he fought off the ache at the bottom of his spine. “Pepper told you about my idea- my suggestion, didn’t she?”

Peter choked, eyes widening. Tony’s suggestion? He was the one behind this? The one forcing them to hide behind closed doors for- fuck, for what felt like years to come. Would Peter be attending the graduation of his child alone, with Tony sat rows above him, because even then the world wouldn’t be aware of their impractical relationship?

Peter scoffed and folded his arms across his chest, rolling his weight onto the balls of his feet to help alleviate the pressure being put on his aching body. “Of course it was you.” Why did he expect anything less?

And here they were. Peter thought they were making progress- that they were squashing the petty squandering that had taken root in their relationship. But Tony couldn’t have peace. He craved discontent and havoc. 

“It’s not what you think,” Tony said, rushing forward- moving to grab Peter’s hand, and in an incredibly ironic turn of events, it was now Peter who stepped back, fingers brushing at his burning eyes to try and will the tears away.

“Tony, don’t.” he held his arms up like he was being arrested. “You have said your peace. I forgive you. I am not upset. I-I understand why you needed space, but don’t ask me to understand this. Please.”

Tony looked desperate- pleading. “Peter, you have to understand I would never have suggested this unless I felt it absolutely necessary. I don’t need people coming after you because you’re affiliated with me even more than you already are.”

He felt like screaming- like reminding Tony that he was an even bigger target now, alone, than he would be if his name was linked to Tony’s. Venom tarnished Peter’s reputation and he’s had an increasingly terrifying rate of activity throughout the world of people who despised what he stood for. He was a mutant freak and now- now that he is pregnant, he is sure that number has skyrocketed. He couldn’t wait to see what the world thought when they discovered he couldn’t name the dad because, to them, he didn’t exist. To the world, Peter and Tony were never an item worth discussing. They were two individuals so wrapped up in one another's lives that they forgot they had their own. 

But what was the point? A never ending cycle of self blame, preservation and desolation? He can’t handle those thoughts, anymore. Not to that degree, not to  _ this  _ degree. No matter what he says, no matter how much he dislikes it, Tony is set on his decision and Peter can talk until he is blue in the face but the outcome will never change. Tony will justify it with whatever he can.

Bottom line always is, however: Peter and Tony will never be public. This world, that world- any world, the ending was always the same.

Screaming won’t change that. 

“I can cancel the summit,” Tony says, and Peter knows it's his attempt at retracting the tension and being helpful. His intentions were in the right place, just entirely misguided. “We can do a press conference instead. You want to be public? We can do what-”

“No, Tony,” Peter cut him off, frustrated, because even after all of this, Tony still can’t understand what Peter wants. “You still think this is all about me?” 

“I- Well, I-”

Nothing will ever change. 

Peter shook his head, and offered a sad smile. “Forget it. I want to go through with the summit. I want to sign the accords and I want to become an avenger.” Tony nodded, and Peter’s heart broke as he choked out what was bubbling like acid up his throat. He doesn’t want to say it- he doesn’t want to- “but I don’t want to do it with you.”

Tony’s eyes shuttered, conflicted, but Peter must have said the right thing and pulled the draw strings because suddenly, as his eyelids slowly lowered in a exaggerated blink, his walls slammed shut and he was back to being so meticulous and emotion-oriented that beyond a neutralness, he seemed entirely impassive to the entire situation. So unbothered it made Peter’s blood run cold. 

He just… shut off. 

Tony brushed a thumb across his nose and sniffed. “Alright, Petey, if that’s what you want.” The step he took backwards was entirely too finalizing, and Peter knew it was the end before he even had to ask. 

“It isn-” Peter began.

Tony clapped his hands, shocking Peter as it shattered the moment and he jolted backwards. “If that’s all, then-” Tony looked down at Peter’s bump one last time before he moved towards the door and opened it- but he didn’t offer eye contact. “I’m just- I’m down the hall. Holler if you need anything.”

And with that, he was gone. The door was closed, and Peter was left alone.

A feeling that was too reminiscent to a planet Peter couldn’t quite shake today. 

*

Peter blamed his hormones as the reason he sniffled through a call with May, claiming he’d watched the notebook on the long flight here and the woman knew how affected he was by that movie, how he romanticized the perfect ending with pain and heartache hedging into focus. She certainly didn’t know any better and couldn't call him out on a lie so perfectly believable she warned him that she planned on texting Tony and telling the man to hide Peter from any and all rom-coms. 

He couldn’t find it in himself to tell her not to- that Tony wouldn’t care because, at this point, Peter was fairly certain he and Tony were done over an argument he couldn’t quite remember. An argument that had started out so beautifully well but ended in disaster. She didn’t know he was the reason Peter was crying right now, and he refused to tell her. Tony didn’t need to become a villain in May’s narrative simply because Peter had influenced her opinion because he couldn’t communicate properly with Tony without immediately feeling like he wasn’t being heard when, really, Tony was just trying to better their lives. Weave out some of the drama that clogged their lungs like tar-filled water. 

It was a nice chat, however. Happy spent the entirety of it grumbling in the background, reminding Peter that he shouldn’t be flying and that he definitely needed to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Of course a man who devoted his life to guard others lives would mainly focus on the dangers that lurked in the unknown. 

It warmed Peter’s heart, though. 

May informed him she was currently the most popular woman at their apartment building, and that she couldn’t leave home without being stopped by at least thirty people. 

“It’s fine-” she’d reassured Peter, “I like the attention and Happy keeps me safe.” no matter how reassuring she attempted to be, though, Peter could hear it. The toll it’s taken on her now that she was in the immediate spotlight. Peter coming out as spiderman was one thing. He had fans. But apparently now there was a new wave of superfans who were obsessed with the science and complexity behind Peter’s pregnancy. 

Another reminder on why he was dangerous to those around him. A fact Tony ignored because he took on everyone else's blame. 

Their phone call ended with a prolonged department, both professing their love after every sentence and extending the length of their conversation because they didn't want to go. But after Peter promised he would visit once home, and May promised to tune in to the signing tomorrow, they were finally hanging up and Peter was forced to enter reality once again when Rhodey knocked on his door and reminded him that it was an hour warning before dinner. 

He didn’t want to go and face Tony. To have to pretend like his heart wasn’t physically aching- but he couldn’t not go. Nat would ask questions, questions he didn’t want to answer just yet, so he could either toughen up and face the world or hide away in oblivion for a few more hours longer before he was bombarded with questions. 

He was supposed to be taking a step back, per Bruce’s instructions. Let the cards fall where they were and despite Bruce’s adamance on him staying home, claiming this trip and the stress behind it would be a little too much for Peter to handle- Peter fought to be here. He wasn’t about to let a set back regarding his and Tony’s rocky relationship ruin this opportunity. 

His decision came when he pulled his dress shirt out of his bag, the jacket missing because he refused to squeeze himself into a suit two nights in a row- not with how swollen he was. The alternative he’d chosen for tonight’s dinner was a simple black wrap-around jacket to at least offer him some coverage, but in the process of unpacking his bag he stumbled across one of Tony’s blazers he packed for comfort. 

He knew it would hurt- that it would hurt so fucking much to wear the mans clothing  _ knowing  _ it wouldn’t be a welcomed sight, but his heart refused to listen. It craved the comfort, the smell- the warmth. 

So he pulled it on over his long sleeved-white button up shirt, letting it fan open to frame his baby bump, and it was incredible how decent he actually looked. He found it increasingly hard to find any outfit comfortable or complimentary of his body, but now it was an almost effortless look, combining chic with formal. 

Then it suddenly struck Peter, as he was grunting and groaning crunched forward tying his shoes- what Pepper’s presence here meant. 

Morgan was home with Michael. 

Alone. 


	7. Life was so new to him

Peter attempted to call Loki, but the man’s phone didn’t even ring once before his voicemail was picking up, reciting a generic message in a woman’s automated, robotic voice before a loud beep slammed against Peter’s ear drum. It wasn’t unlike Loki to answer. Traveling to and fro, jumping from planet to planet with his husband, meant he wasn’t always within the realms of cell reception. Peter had just assumed he would have stayed here long enough to help him discover what the fuck was going on and if his worry was warranted with Morgan being home. 

“Hey, it’s Peter,” like the introduction was necessary. Peter groaned. “I uh- I was just calling for an update? You sent some- urm,” and how did one word the implication of Loki’s photos without vocally proclaiming what they had seen. Peter wasn’t too worried, assuming it was just a doctored photo like Loki claimed it was, so he didn’t pay too much mind to it. But something about his texts being wiped clean didn’t sit well with him. “You sent some strange information but didn’t relay the discoveries beyond your initial investigation. Have you found out anything else? Morgan is at home with him and I’m- I’m worried, Loki. So if you can give me a call back, I would greatly appreciate it. Thank you,”

Peter hung up with a deep exhale, head falling back against his wall. He was fully dressed for dinner, save for his undone shoelace, but he thought he would attempt to call Loki while he had a chance. He was tempted to pull out his laptop to attempt and access the server while here, but without Friday’s direct help he was very limited. His resources here weren’t what they were at the Tower and he was afraid of something breaching his unsecure connection and attempting to tear apart everything to find whatever information they could before Friday shut them out. 

Out here, doing as he pleased wasn’t an option. He wasn’t Tony- he didn’t know how to be tech-savvy while in a third world country and not risk him offering over more information to a potential hacker. So, he didn’t. Instead, he gathered his items, tied his shoe and waddled down the corridor to ride the elevator down alone and meet everyone else in the foyer. 

*

Nat can tell something is off on the ride to the restaurant and attempts to pry the answer from Peter with subtly probing questions that weren’t asked for the direct response, but for the answer hidden behind his body language and speech. She can read him like a book, but apparently tonight his pages were blank because she parted ways with him as soon as they arrived at the restaurant, annoyance rolling off of the set of her shoulders. 

Bruce stops her on their way in, and Peter can sense the tension both of them are emitting so he avoids them as best as he possibly can and ushers himself into the large, extravagant restaurant with Clint and Sam in tow behind him.

“Don’t even go there man, T’Challa will kick your ass,” Clint says, playfully swatting at Sam’s shoulder. They brushed past Peter. 

Sam held his hands up and laughed. “I’m not saying I would ever attempt to do anything with her, but the woman has got beauty. Even Steve’s moral ass can’t deny that.”

“Who?” Peter asks, interest spiking even though his true intentions behind interrupting their conversation were because a waitress was approaching them and he did not want to talk to her, however kind her smile may be. 

Sam and Clint exchange a look before Sam shrugs and throws an arm over Peter’s shoulder. Dragging him into the folds of their secrecy, it seems. “Listen here, Spidey,” he began, Clint falling step beside them. They completely brushed past the waitress who was trying her hardest to capture their attention, but Peter was reminded his job was to simply show up- nothing else. Offering a little sympathy to an over-eager waitress certainly wasn’t his job. “These words are never to leave this little circle- but T’Challa’s general, who I’m not sure you have ever met, is… she’s perfect, plain and simple.”

“Yeah, now tell the poor boy that she’s also currently engaged to the king.”

Sam scoffed. “Details, details,”

Sam was correct. Peter has never properly met T’Challa, but he fought alongside him during the endgame with Thanos. He wanted to introduce himself to the man, when he came to the tower in passing, but the thought never crossed his mind when he was in the man's presence. He was too grief-ridden both times to even make his acquaintance. 

“Isn’t he like, incredibly dangerous?” Peter asked, awe-twined words not going unnoticed by Sam or Clint. Peter didn’t know much about the king, or the wakandians, but he’s never seen someone move more gracefully during such a bloody fight. He was an effortless fighter, and Peter admired him. 

Clint gawfed, drawing the attention of numerous waiters and waitresses- with Wanda peeking curiously over from her place still at the doors where she was talking to Thor and Bucky. “Incredibly,” he confirmed, patting Peter’s back with a glee that was misplaced when discussing someone who could, and would, kick their asses if he ever discovered the nature of this conversation. “That’s why Sam here never has the balls to talk to either of them. Watch when T’Challa shows up tomorrow- Sammy boy here is going to find every excuse to leave early.”

Sam glared. “I  _ do  _ have a mission tomorrow,”

Peter rolled his eyes and laughed, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “I’m sure you do.”

A waitress stood by a large table, that really looked like multiple tables shoved together to fit the length of the dining room, and she handed them a menu before gesturing towards a seat. Peter was too preoccupied to admire the location of which they were dining tonight, but from what he has looked at it was just as posh and incredible as he assumed. 

The menu didn’t even have prices listed, and that certainly didn’t sit well with him. That he would potentially be spending a months rent on a single meal- or rather he wasn’t, but Tony would be. And that  _ definitely  _ wasn’t comforting. 

At the thought of the name, his eyes scan the restaurant and his body deflates with disappointment. He hasn’t seen the man yet. Tony and Pepper hung back to discuss something and Peter didn’t want to know what that was code for. 

“Speaking of-Shuri is around your age, is she not? Maybe you should cozy up to her?” Clint suggested with waggled eyebrows and it was Peter’s turn to laugh.

“Yes, because a heavily pregnant  _ male _ is what everyone is searching for. I’m sure she would jump at the opportunity.”

Nobody would ever want him again. He was used goods. But he wouldn’t trade that knowledge for anything. He was content with where he was right now, and vowed to be everything he possibly could be for his baby without Tony’s help or guidance. 

Clint’s humor turned into something sincere and serious, a look that didn’t sit right on his boyish face that was usually caught between dark humor or anger- but  _ never _ beyond those two emotions. Sentimentality wasn't a look his face wore well. “You’re only in your early twenties, kid. Your life isn’t over. You still have a lot to live for.” Then the sincerity dissolved when he caught a waitresses eye, and he grinned flirtatiously- a dismissive hand waving in Peter’s direction and brushing their previous discussion aside- or perhaps he was brushing aside his interest in it? “The world is your oyster, or some shit. I don’t know. Just stop being so reserved to not living your life.” 

Peter wasn’t afraid to live his life- he was afraid that if he left, he wouldn’t be missed. He was afraid he would be forgotten and every fundamental connection in his life would be ripped from his grasp. 

He was so easily overlooked and ignored- he was nothing special and his absence would prove that to the people around him. If he left on his own terms, with nobody feeling guilty over his disappearance, he knew nobody would come looking for him.

And that terrified him.

The loneliness that awaited him.

“If waitresses in America were as beautifully as you, I don’t think I’d ever cook again-“ Clint pitched his voice a smidge lower, attempting to appear casual and seductive with his arm slung over the back of his chair and any other day, Peter would laugh. Poke fun at the mans attempt at flirting, but it seemed to catch the waitresses attention. However, that wasn’t the reason for his selective muteness. The grand doors swung open, glass shimmering with the reflection of the low hung moon, and Pepper walked in followed closely by someone- so close one would mistake it for an intimate proximity. 

It was Tony, his hand resting on the small of her back. Pepper looked flustered, cheeks dusted with a rosy red, yet Tony was unfazed and continued to guide her. 

Tony, the second he walked in, had all eyes on him. He was breathing that familiar air of authority as he instructed the waitresses and guided them to do their respected jobs as he casually barked out orders while somehow making them sound like suggestions. His tongue was so loose, so effortless, and Peter remembered why he’d been in awe the first time he ever met Tony in person. How he’d practically swooned that day in his apartment. 

It was so incredibly unfair, and now he had to sit back and watch the glide of Tony’s hand across a waitresses elbow, his smile inviting but empty and she laughed at whatever he said, tipping her head back ever so slightly to elongate her pale neck, her back arching to press her breasts tightly against her dress. 

Tony laughed too, eyes drifting across her body, and Peter noticed how his hand dropped to her hip, fingers lingering there for seconds Peter could have done without before Tony was pulling away and he suddenly felt sick.

“Stop torturing yourself,” Wanda said. She materialized by his side, linking their arms and, given nobody had directed him to his respectful seat, she caught his eye and nodded towards the table. “Let’s sit and look over the menu, shall we?”

She didn’t ask for any answers- didn’t press to know why Tony was being openly flirtatious with the waitress when just months ago they were vocally proclaiming their relationship. She was instead offering him a silent comfort, acting as an unwaverable support, and it was only when Peter had set down and scanned over the menu that he decided he needed to talk about it.

“Am I insane?” he asked, his body angled ever so slightly towards Wanda. He could feel the brush of her knee against his, feel the gentle breeze of her hand moving to pat at his arm thoughtfully, hovering for a second as she seemed to consider his question.

She smelt of lovely tonight, with a faint brush of lilacs pulsing across her skin and effortlessly masking the normal sweet, singed scent that clung to her hands. It was her energy, her magic, he knew that. And it was familiar, yet the lilac was somehow comforting too. 

“By definition, insane means your perception or behavior is compromised- neither of which fit you particularly, but that’s not what you’re asking, is it?” she cocked her head to the side, and he could see she was genuinely trying to understand the logic behind his question. She didn’t know the nights of Peter’s and Tony’s, stolen kisses and gentle touches. She didn’t know that once upon a time Tony had made an insecure Peter feel so incredibly beautiful, with minimal effort, as he stood naked in their bathroom, and promised to change the very definition of beauty just to ensure Peter’s shallow pride had been stroked for the day. And she didn’t know the sudden shift that had happened, creating an air of abnormality between them that shouldn’t even exist. Not with them. 

Not with Peter and Tony.

She didn’t know any of this, and Peter didn’t know how to explain any of it without crying. “Am I insane to believe Tony loved me?”

_ I have not, and will never, love another human being being as much as I love you.  _ The memory was vicious and attacked his brain with surfaces images of Tony straddling him as he talked him down from a panick attack, and he made a hurt noise that completely passed over Wanda's head. 

The conflict was immediate on her face. A loyalty to Tony while also relying heavily on that same devotion to Peter. She wanted to commiserate with Peter on the unfortunate circumstances revolving around his tragic relationship, but how could she truly offer a level of compassion without being biased? She favored Peter, but she loved Tony. He was a man who believed in, and trusted her, when no one else did. 

She turned her gaze towards something behind Peter, and he knew she saw now what he saw. Comprehended now the intentions of this conversation. She exhaled deeply through her nose, and Peter has never heard a sound so relatable. “I’m going to tell you something, Petey, and I need you to understand it fully. Do not dissect it- do not tear it apart and take only the pieces you want to take from it. Okay?”

He blinked, taken aback, but nodded. “I understand.”

She took his hand and held it between both of hers, holding a level of eye contact that would usually make Peter shy away but not tonight. Not when the very stare made the staticy noise in the background melt away- offering him the illusion of a space only they inhabited. A space not contaminated by the giggly-laughs of a young woman offering herself to a man in a flirtatiously desperate show of interest as she harmlessly laid a hand on his bicep.

Peter cringed, Wanda noticed. She took his chin in her hand and forced his face forward, only a slight inclination- their foreheads inches from touching with their eyes staying locked. “You are so wonderfully magnificent, Peter, and I never want you to forget that. Throw away what you believe, and listen to what I am saying to you. Tony loves you, he always has- and I’m certain he always will, but sometimes two people are just not compatible. You are both so similar in the most catastrophic ways. You lack the proper communication skills to maintain a healthy relationship without misunderstanding rooting insecurities in place. You would rather hide than face a problem- run than deal with your emotions, and I fear you both have a lot of growing to do before you can ever have a successful relationship. You gave it a shot- hey, no,” she moved Peter’s head back up with a gentle forcefulness when his gaze fell to her chin. He could feel the truth she was speaking, felt it well in his chest like hot helium- but he didn’t want to believe it. 

Her own eyes were glossy. “Vision and I were an awfully lot like you two, young spiderling, and I promise you the narrative you are forcing onto Tony is not the truth. Never question the emotion behind his actions. You don’t deserve that.”

Wanda rarely talked about Vision, so when she willingly brought his name into the conversation (and not for the first time. It seems like Peter has only ever heard her speak of Vision when in his company) he latched onto her words, to the meaning. “What do you mean we are like you and Vision?” For a moment, his own pain was pushed to the back burner. He wanted to know more about the man made machine, of the intricate, complicated person that he was. Maybe then he could understand Tony more. The shock he’d had to endure waking up in a body not his own. 

Wanda smiled wistfully, the distant gaze in her eye illuminating the warmth trapped beneath her smile. “Life was so new to him,” she began, enchantedly, and he swore he could see the memories she was reliving, reflected in her eyes. “Beginning a relationship immediately was awfully idiotic of us, but we craved the other in a way he could never properly understand. When the world was wrong, we always felt right. We were attempting to figure out each other while figuring out who we were meant to be, and things got messy. We latched onto one another in a gross dependency that we never outgrew. Losing him was-” she didn’t need to finish the sentence, Peter knew. Knew the pain of losing someone you loved, of feeling incomplete and raw injustice because you didn’t get enough time. He knew that feeling of being cheated all too well, yet Wanda smiled the pain away. 

“You began your relationship during a time that was challenging for you both. Becoming pregnant in the process, placed a wedge in any and all progress you two made. Tony felt betrayed you kept it from him- you felt Tony would never accept the child. The strain just… sometimes it's too much- but you aren’t insane.” she shook her head, decidedly, and placed a kiss to his cheek. “No, never insane to believe in love.”

Peter’s eyelashes fluttered close. She was warm and familiar, her touch an electrical current across his cheek that was oddly soothing and numbing, but not overwhelming. He was grateful to her in a lot of ways, even if he never understood his jumbled emotions after he left her. She often reflected her own emotions onto him in an attempt to force a relation to get him to calm down. In the long run, it truthfully just mixed his all up until he wasn’t certain what the original point was and he was sure that was done intentionally. 

But right now, he felt so… clear. So unjudged and understood. He knew Tony loved him, he was crazy to think otherwise, but he couldn’t move past the still fresh hurt of being told to the public, they would never exist. At least not for right now. It stung.

In reflection, he doesn’t understand why he hasn’t cried yet. His hormones were all over the place, he is certain Tony broke up with him and the man is currently entertaining a brunette airhead as she dangled her titts infront of her face, practically frothing at the mouth at the possibility of Tony stark embarking on the journey she was offering him as she pushed her breasts out a little more. She wanted to be another conquest, and Peter felt jealousy- raw and hot, like acid licking up his throat and gliding along each and every tooth like a hot iron, but he didn’t feel pain, beyond the knowledge of being unclaimable. He just felt numb. 

Everyone settled in their seats, Wanda and Clint apparently sitting by him, with the rest of the table filling out with familiar and unfamiliar faces. Some were new, some were old, some caught his eye and held it with a unhidden curiosity that felt like snowflakes across his skin as they assessed him, but none of them managed to hold his attention. 

The table had a low murmur as they were served their appetizers, and the buzz continued along when they were served their first course but Peter was so uninterested in the conversation he couldn’t even pretend to follow along. 

He pushed his food around, an odd smelling meat with a thick, orange sauce- with the consistency of runny mashed potatoes, smeared across his plate in a curled leaf. He was sure it tasted lovely, Wanda swore by it, but he wasn’t particularly hungry. Just tired. 

The first course came and went, followed by the second and by the time dessert was served Peter was twitching in his seat, a poorly masked tick of his that proved how restless he was. He no longer wanted to be here, to have a perfect ear-shot of Tony’s offhandedly flirting with the waitress who hovered loyally by his shoulder, and pretend he cared what the balding man at the end of the table was saying as he waved animatedly towards Peter and smiled wide. 

“-rrow will be the perfect opportunity for him to show the world what we have all known. Spider-Man will change the world.” His voice wavered with exertion and effort, somehow making his words even more unbelievable. Peter wouldn’t change anything. He was a pawn in a game and his piece held no importance to the outcome. They just wanted to ensure he was trapped in their snare so he couldn’t run off and play Venom again. 

Peter rolled his eyes, head ducked, and stabbed at the mint ice cream, a single scoop, served in a crystal ice cream dish with flowers and leaves crackling up the side in symmetrical patterns. The ice cream smelt of strong mint and cream, with its texture smooth and no doubt delicious but just the idea of putting a drop to his tongue had his stomach rolling. He nudged Clint with his elbow, nodding his head towards his ice cream and waving his finger between his full dish, and Clint’s licked clean on. 

The man's eyes lit up. “I like where this is headed,” he said and grinned, taking Peter’s dish without further persuasion and replacing it with his own on the single glass plate. He happily scooped up a spoonful of ice cream and Peter watched enviously as he shoved it in his mouth, teeth audibly dragging across the metal. Clint abandoned his effort to flirt with the waitress, his eyes too focused on his task at hand to notice how the woman was practically undressing him across the table. 

He snorted and returned his attention to the balding man, who was still droning on and on, apparently taking Peter’s silence as encouragement to speak on his behalf. “We are lucky to have him signing the accords-“ 

“Here, honey,” a smooth, yet obviously accented voice purred just feet from Peter- familiar, yet not spoken to him. She had difficulty pronouncing, “honey,” and put extra pronunciation on the “n”, yet that didn’t deter her effort. Peter glanced over as she handed a small little card to Tony and winked. “My number, for when you leave. I can only imagine how lonely your hotel room must get. Being up on the penthouse floor with no company,” she tsked him lightly and swatted at his arm. 

Peter was so focused on the lingered contact, and the way her voice became husky as her German accent became more pronounced, that he didn’t realize he’d been holding onto the glass dish still sticky with Clint’s ice cream residue. He didn’t realize it, therefore he didn’t fully comprehend why there was a loud shattering noise followed by the low sound of skin tearing- a dull pain emitting from the palm of his hand and rolling up his arms in stuttered waves. 

Tony jumped at the sound, caught Peter’s eye and immediately looked down at the table. Whatever he saw there, made his skin grey and his eyes widened a fraction. Peter followed his line of sight and saw three shards of glass sticking out of his palm. Two belonged to the shattered bowl, digging deeply by his fingers, and part of the stem from the bowl was dug into the softened part of his palm, just above his wrist. 

He stared at it dazedly, not comprehending what was going on as blood poured from each gash like rivers of cherry slushies, but the white table cloth was now polka dotted, with the acception of a large stain in the middle, and his hand was shaking so incredibly bad it had droplets flying everywhere. 

He got his wish, though. Everyone stopped talking and the table was finally silent. 

“Oh,” he breathed, shocked. He couldn’t feel it. He wanted to make some joke about the ice cream being good, or something equally as fitting for the dilemma at hand, but he also knew it wouldn’t go over well since half of the avengers were prepared to attack him if he tried using the glass as a weapon. 

Rather they thought he intended to use it on himself more fully, or someone else, was unknown.

Then Bruce jumped into action. He told someone to fetch the medical bag from the kitchen and took Peter by his elbow. When he pulled him up, it wasn’t a request but rather a silent demand and he forced the boy on his feet and pulled him towards the bathrooms. 

Again, Peter was painfully aware of the calming numbness. 

Bruce didn’t say anything, but he was visibly fuming. He pushed him towards the sink and after Peter effortlessly hopped up on it, he took off the blazer, smartly not commenting on who’s it was- as had nobody else, and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt now spattered with blood to get a clean view of the damage. 

It wasn’t bad, but it also wasn't pretty. Knuckles raked across the door, and silently Bruce opened it. “Is he-“ 

“Fine, thank you,” the response was curt, and he closed the door in their face, cutting off any further questions from the nosy waitress. 

His nostrils flared as he clearly struggled to keep his call. “This will hurt,” he informed him, at least having the decency to warn him. A second later, he was ripping the piece of glass from Peter’s hand. It was greeted by a fountain of red before it died back down to shallow pools that drizzled hotly down his hands. Peter didn’t feel the first, but he felt the second and third- both stinging and not at all pleasant as they drug across his exposed nerves. 

He at least appreciated every warning Bruce offered him. He could hear the gears working in his head, Peter mentally preparing himself for a scolding, as Bruce opened an alcohol wipe, gloves now adorning his hands. The latex was smeared with blood, but it had stopped bleeding as bad as his healing began to kick in. 

The burn of alcohol didn’t immediately accompany the smell. It was dabbed at his skin, precise and gentle touches, to blot away the blood seeping from the deep wound. Then it set in, mild, but enough his leg twitched forward and he gave a low hiss before unclenching his fist and setting Bruce with a warning gaze. 

And here it comes. “Don’t even,” Bruce challenged him right back, meeting his glare with one of equal ferocity. Peter shrunk back a bit, not having expected the green giant in human skin to talk back. “You are so incredibly stupid and reckless, Peter. What would have happened had the glass moved an inch higher and nicked your vein?” 

He wanted to tell Bruce nothing would happen, with a certainty that would make the man question everything Peter has ever done in his free time, past and in another world, but he didn’t want to answer any questions. Instead, he deflated at the chastising and accepted it for its worth. 

He looked down at the floor and watched as his blood reflected the harsh bathroom lighting and made it appear shades darker than it was. It was a stark contrast to the white tiles.  _ He refused to think about what he’d done. _

Faintly, he could hear the murmur of dinner guests as they bustled about, fazed by Peter’s sudden outburst but attempting to forge a calm atmosphere so the night wasn’t entirely ruined. He wondered if the waitress was comforting Tony, and the thought sent a sharp pain through his stomach. 

He placed his good hand on the swell of his bump and rubbed, once, just for the reassurance it was still as prominent as it had been thirty minutes ago. That it hadn’t been stolen away by the presence of that woman, as silly as that may seem. “It’ll heal,” Peter offered weakly, already feeling the itching settling beneath his skin as his body worked overtime to heal it. In a few seconds a thick scab would cover the wound, and in an hour it wouldn’t even exist. He didn’t understand why Bruce was making such a scene.  _ He refused to think about what he did. _

“You need to go back to America,” Bruce said, throwing away his random wrappers and gloves- Peter’s hand covered in a gauze cast that cut just above his wrist and just below his fingers. “To New York. I knew coming out here would be too much-“

“No,” Peter answered hotly, the same anger from before returning. He could feel it tingling at the crease of his elbow, begging for him to release it. “I am so sick of people telling me what I can and can not do.” 

He hopped down from the sink, ignoring how closely and intimately Bruce had just been while doctoring his hand. Then again, Peter never even questioned it when the man slotted between his legs, too focused on brooding to care. It wasn’t intimate, no, he could see that now. It was just... so much more than he’s been subjected to recently and it felt nice. Bruce smelt nice.

Peter wanted a hug. 

He wouldn’t ask for him, though. Never. “You can’t love me, I’m too old- You can’t become Spider-Man, you’re too affected by the aftermath of Thanos’ world. New York is off limits and my fragility is suddenly the main focus of everybody’s agenda. I can’t do something because of a fear you all have, a common core memory that I don’t want to feed in to- and I’m sick of it,” 

Many of the things didn’t directly associate with Bruce, examples that scream Tony, and understanding dawned on Bruce’s face before his eyebrows pulled down. He looked entirely annoyed. “You’re sick of us protecting your life?” 

“Protecting my life is one thing- but preventing me from living is another. There isn’t an immediate danger, Bruce. Why do I need to return to America? Offer me one valid reason and I’ll go without a fight,” 

“You just lost control of your strength, in a room full of humans, and shattered a  _ thick _ dish in your bare hands. It cut you and you didn’t even flinch or acknowledge the pain. No-  _ No _ . I don’t think you even  _ felt  _ it.” Bruce sighed and the door handle turned. It was still locked. “Your mental health is drastically disintegrating, Peter.” 

Peter stared silently, not expecting to have been called out like that or really offered a reason as to why he should return. He felt no different coming here than he did right now, aside from a mild queasiness, but that could be blamed on the sight of blood or his pregnancy. It hardly had to do with the Accords, that was for sure. He innocently kept his mind blank.

A fleeting image of Pepper in the foyer popped into his mind, but he banished it away and hugged his arms around himself, his hurt hand awkwardly sandwiched beneath his armpit. 

The door handle turned again, and he glared accusingly at the metal. “I’m not going back to America. It is my decision and I will stay here,”  _ He refused to think about what he’d done.  _ He repeated it so much, his mind actually listened and slowly- the images of Pepper, of the scared waitress and her exposed breasts and lingering touch on Tony’s shoulder, melted into the corners of his mind and what rose to the surface was a comforting nothingness. No waitress, no blood, no Tony, no accords. Nothing. 

Bruce’s answering sigh was heavy, breaking his nothingness but not shattering it entirely. “I know,” he sounded resigned, his previous anger seeping from his shoulders and Peter wondered how much the anger had to do with him, and how much was just masked frustration from what was going on with Natasha. 

“I’m not a child,” Peter continued adamantly, trying to convey that to someone else in hopes it would stick this time. It hasn’t thus far, with everyone else. They all thought him to be a broken item who would shatter even more at the slightest bump. 

A part of him wanted to show them what he went through on Thanos' planet. To see that he was hardly affected by anything, and wouldn’t be, if he could come back sane and trusting after dealing with everything he dealt with, there. But it would break them. To witness all he had; to know what lived on in his mind. They couldn’t  _ handle _ it. Yet Peter was  _ fine.  _

Largely because he ignored what happened there, but still. Suppressed memories weren’t a problem now. 

Again, Bruce sighed and sagged against the stalls with his back pressed to it. He rubbed at his face and ran a hand through his untamed curls. “We know,”  _ not I, we,  _ “but we have a right to worry, especially when you pull shit like that. Is it Venom? Is he going to-“ 

Peter snorted. “No. I haven’t felt him since that day in the cells. I’m pretty sure he’s long gone,” his heart ached when he thought back to what had happened before the glass shattered, but he didn’t want to relay to Bruce what he saw. “It’s nothing. I just remembered something,” 

Bruce took the lie at face value, tested its weight on his shoulders, and decided not to press it further with a curt nod. “If you want to be treated like a hero, stop running around like a child,” 

“I-I hadn’t realized I was?” 

Bruce scoffed. “You’ve been reliant on Tony, treating him like your master who points you in every direction. It’s creepy kid, and if you’re signing the accords you need to stop focusing solely on your romance and more about what lies before you with this unique opportunity.” 

Was Peter really that transparent? “I have a lot that’s centered around him,” he argued with a shrug of his shoulders, trying to act nonchalant to keep the hurt from his voice. 

Bruce’s eyes found Peter’s stomach knowingly. “You can have his kid and still have a life separate from his.” 

“It’s not that easy, is it?” 

“You’ve been to space, and you think the hardest thing is distancing yourself from Tony?” Bruce shook his head in disbelief, a hint of admiration beeding his warm eyes. “Listen, Peter, I’m not telling you to leave him. I’m telling you not to become like every other person who gets in a relationship, superhero or otherwise. They forget who they are, and lose sight of what’s important. You’re too gifted to rely on Tony for everything.” 

Peter never thought of himself as gifted. He was just… Peter. So to have someone, like Dr. Banner, tell him he was gifted? It was  _ surreal.  _ He remembers reading one of Bruce’s papers, he can’t remember what of now, but he wondered if that man, from that time, would say the same thing about Peter if he didn’t know him personally? Probably not. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” 

Bruce offered a tight smile. “Nobody ever does,” he whispered, “I didn’t know who I was after I became hulk. I still struggle with it.” He shrugged, but Peter could see he wasn’t lying. It was in the creases of his forehead and the absence of smile lines. “Go back to school- find an internship, focus solely on being Spider-Man. I don’t know, Peter. I’ve seen you fight though. I know you’re not weak.”  _ But you are pregnant,  _ was left unsaid but implied. 

Peter remembered back to the first time he met the members of the team. He’d felt so cool taking Cap’s shield away from him- powerful, helping Tony take them down. And he’s lost that feeling. He’s lost the meaning behind being Spider-Man. His hand found his stomach again. “I’m worried he’ll be like me,” he admitted with an open honesty that still terrified him. He’s refused to talk about his baby with anyone, Bruce included- save for his conversation with May, because he was terrified of what it might mean. If the baby came out gifted, which was highly likely. Will he be tested? Taken the moment he is born? 

“We’ve discussed this,” Bruce said, and Peter hadn’t realized the man had pushed up off the stalls until he was by his side again, repacking the black medical bag. “There’s no point in getting worked up over something that hasn’t happened yet. We’ll decide what to do when the time comes.” 

“What happens if they take him when the time comes?” 

Bruce had Peter by the wrist in a second flat, the hair on the boy's arm standing in alarm as a tingle shot down his spine, but he suppressed his natural response and took a shaky breath in. Bruce looked slightly unhinged and intense, his eyes squinted in a glare. “They will not touch the baby- do you understand me?” 

“But I’m sig-“ 

“Regardless of what you sign, they will never touch him. You have how many  _ freaks, _ ” the usual disdain associated with that word was absent, and the way it curled off of his tongue was almost playful, “on your side? He’ll be the safest kid in the galaxy.” 

“The God of Thunder insists he’s the godfather,” Peter said with a breathy laugh, his worries not disappearing but slowly diminishing with reassurances piled on top of them. 

Bruce let go of his arm and smiled, too, and for the first time in weeks it actually reached his eyes. “We’ll see how well Hulk agrees with that,” 

For the third time in the last minute, someone tried to turn the doorknob and Bruce gave an annoyed sigh before he unlocked the bolt and jerked it open. Peter was shuffling with the sleeve of his shirt, pulling it down to cover his gauze covered hand as best as he can. He was reaching for the blazer Bruce had thrown on the side of the sink when yet another hand grabbed his wrist. 

“What the fuck is this, Pete,” Natasha hissed, her high heel clad foot kicking the door closed with enough force it rattled the bathroom mirror. She spun Peter around and thrust his phone in his face, the photo of Michael, which he thought was deleted, pulled up. 

He blanched, not knowing how she’d managed to get his phone, and attempted to take it from her hand, but she jerked it back and out of reach. “Give me it,” he demanded, though his voice came out a shaky whisper. 

“Not until you tell me what the fuck this… this  _ thing _ is.” 

“Why?” Peter snapped, jerking his hand from her arm. “It’s not like you care. You didn’t believe me, nobody did. You told me to let it go.” He felt betrayed and invaded. 

“Clearly you didn’t,” she snarled, her nails clacking against his screen as she pulled something up, a green bubble that was time stamped from just seven minutes ago.  _ Loki had forwarded the messages back to him.  _ His eyebrows furrowed at the url link, and once again he tried to swipe the phone from her hand but she moved it further back. “Tell me, Peter,” 

He felt cornered now, with Hulk- still in human form, thankfully- confused and lost, hovering in the corner of the bathroom with his back to the door, and Natasha seething in his face, demanding answers for something she hadn’t cared about hours prior. Something she told him to drop. 

With a flick of his good wrist, webbing was splattering across the front of the glass screen and he was jerking it into his hands. It happened in three seconds, and by the time Natasha registered what had happened, the blur of movements had ended with Peter sitting on the sink with the phone clutched to his chest. 

She looked stunned. Peter paid no mind to her and with his good hand held up and aimed at them, making it clear he would web again if promoted, he used his injured one to hold his phone. It was awkward, and painful, with his fingers having minimal movement from the gauze, but he made do. 

FWD:  _ Most definitely not doctored. The photo is authentic and I’m quite certain of his breed. I will have to consult a friend of mine, but assure me you will not be in his presence, Peter. He is a dangerous creature who should not be messed with. He enjoys a game and I fear you are trapped in the center of one of his largest plots yet. _

_ I’ve attempted to ascertain the origin of the creature in the photo, but I have had no luck on that front. However, I have dealt with his kind before. They’re manipulative, social creatures who enjoy playing mental games. He feeds off of energy, and it’s no wonder he’s hung around with your group for so long. That fiery woman with magic must be a feast for him. You as well, Peter, with your stubborn, thick headedness. You pose a competition to him, but that can’t be the only reason he’s sticking around. He wants something else, and if he’s making his power clear to you that must mean he’s closing in on it. Stay safe, Peter. Thor and I are traveling to Asgard for a night but we will be back before nightfall tomorrow. Do not attempt anything until we return, understand?  _

There was no information regarding the url, so Peter opened it while he chewed nervously on his lip and a grainy video popped up, the audio screeching and staticky to his sensitive ears. Quickly thumbing down the volume, he locked eyes with Nat as his heart hammered and silently beckoned her forward with his head. She eyed his extended hand wearily, and when he lowered it she walked forward. 

She stood next to him, their shoulders brushing, and they both turned their attention to the screen just as a slimy grey creature darted across the darkened backdrop. It wasn’t clear where the video was taken, probably on another planet, he assumed, but it was clear the creature wasn’t human. 

Bruce walked up to his other shoulder. 

In the video he could hear someone panting heavily, the frame shaking with residual fear coursing through their body, and it was hard to focus on anything as they ran, but then suddenly the entire imagery was shifting and lifting to a clear blue sky. There, the grey creature was extended mid-air, his arms extended in an identical pose to Jesus on the cross before he was suddenly screeching and diving towards the videographer. Peter jumped, and the screen went black. Then the URL jumbled together, and disappeared all together. 

“What the fuck was that,” Natasha whispered, shaken. 

“That would be Michael,” Peter answered in an equally shaky voice, though he was certain. Loki wouldn’t have sent him this, the image or video again, unless he was sure of it. “The man I warned you all of and you treated me like a mental patient. I  _ told _ you something was wrong with him but none of you believed me. You thought it was  _ jealousy.”  _

He tried not thinking back to his fight with Tony after the baby shower, on how the man had acted- accused him of conspiring with Loki, of choosing his enemy over him and the pain from that day was as fresh as it was now. It was when their real problems began, he assumed. It was then when he realized their relationship lacked trust. 

Nat looked guilty. “Peter, I promise you if i would have kno-“ 

“You didn’t ask,” he cut her off and suddenly pissed off, he jumped off of the counter with the intention of leaving before he thought better of it and spun back around and pointed an accusing finger at the both of them. “You all thought I was- that I was crazy. Not a single one of you trusted my opinion enough to look into his background.  _ Loki _ did.  _ Loki _ didn’t even question my judgement. A complete  _ stranger _ believed in me more than the people that claim to be my family.” 

He was shaking now,  _ again,  _ with a mixture of fear and anger but there was also something there, beneath the surface. An almost recognition of the creature in the video but not really. Like it was from another lifetime, another version of himself. A version he didn’t have access to. A version that  _ knew _ the danger lurking beneath this creature's presence.

“You had no proof. If we go around taking down everyone we have a feeling about, half the world would be behind bars. You have  _ actual _ proof now. Show Tony,” 

“No,” Peter said, eyes widening with panic, “Tony is not to know. He finds out about this and I will never trust either of you again.” He looked between the two, noticed the twitch in Natasha’s finger, and panic unfurled in his stomach. “Please?” 

Loki has helped him this far, and beyond him Peter didn’t need anybody. Nat and Bruce finding out made it so there were already two too many people being let in on their little discovery mission, but he refused to let Tony intervene. He would either discredit all the findings, or rush into a fight headfirst before they could find out what exactly they were dealing with. He would let emotions eradicate his actions, blindly lead him into a mission that would surely kill them all. 

“You want us to lie to him?” Bruce asked, speaking up for the first time since Nat arrived. 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Like that’s something foreign to you guys. You lie about something at least once a day. It’s in your nature to be secretive,” he gave a pointed look at Nat, who held his gaze unashamedly. 

“He can help,” Bruce argued, his chest puffing up in preparation to further argue, but a simple touch from Nat’s delicate hand on his chest had him deflating like an old balloon. He slouched forward and frowned down at her hand still pressed against his pec, eyebrow arched in a question mark. 

“Maybe he’s right,” she said up to the giant with green tinged cheeks, her voice the tiniest bit shaky. Peter noticed her hand was, too, and he knew immediately it was from touching Banner. 

_ So you do see,  _ Nat has once asked him, in a time that seemed far less complicated but was just two days ago,  _ My pain is a pale compromise for his happiness.  _ It seems she was sticking true to her word and denying herself the comfort of Bruce, something that’s taken a physical toll on the both of them, and her nerves were rubbed raw. Scorched at the ends and begging to be mended. 

Bruce looked like he wanted to cave in, just to have her touching him a little longer- fearing if he argued further she would surely pull away, yet his tongue wouldn’t cooperate. “Tony is the most resourceful man on this team- not to mention it is  _ his  _ daughter that is in potential danger.” 

“Potential?” Peter scoffed. Bruce still didn’t believe him. 

Catching on to the slip in his words, Bruce shook his head quickly and held up a finger. The movement jostled Nat’s hand and rather than standing awkwardly with her hand held just above his heart, she slowly slid it down and subtly linked their pinky fingers together. “Not what I meant,” Bruce said with a shudder, trying to mask the reaction to the contact with a step to the side, resulting in his shoulder bumping against Nat’s. “Of course I believe you, Peter, but if he wanted to harm her wouldn’t he already have? I don’t think it’s Morgan that he wants,” 

Peter never considered that. He was always hung up on the idea of Morgan being the main target- of Morgan being in danger. Morgan. Morgan. Morgan. Her name stained his every thought, yet there wasn’t a time he wasn’t reminded he held no familial connection or claim to her. She wasn’t his child or his ward. She didn’t need his protection, yet he was fiercely devoted to keeping her safe. And Michael was proving to want the opposite outcome, or so he’d assumed.“Then what could he possibly gain from being her Nanny?” 

The three stood in the cramped bathroom, silent, trying to figure out what the man could possibly benefit from spending his day following around a child genius, and nothing made sense but then it seemed to slam into them all at the same time. 

They all went to speak, closed their mouths, then Bruce’s lip curved into a smile and he waved at Peter to continue. “Go on,” 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, a little self conscious now for no apparent reason other than a man who was well respected in the world, one of the most sought after minds, was trusting Peter’s own intellect over his own. “He doesn’t want Morgan, he wants her knowledge.” He explained, everything sliding together like a perfectly sculpted puzzle. Michael’s hesitation to be around them, his rapt attention that he always devoted to Morgan like every word she uttered were gold and he needed to hang on to each and every one. Peter has only been in his presence once, but it was one time too many. He was using her as an informant- taking advantage of her willingness to confide in an imposture who posed as her friend. 

Nat nodded in agreement. “I was going to say the same thing- I heard Pepper telling you guys the other day that Morgan was learning the technology behind Tony’s nano-bots. That’s information he hasn’t even given to SHIELD. If a five year old has access to some of the most guarded secrets, and her father was my target, of course I would infiltrate her home. Pepper wouldn’t suspect him or his charm. He isn’t around us frequently enough so none of us would ever question him- you aside.” 

“It’s the perfect cover to unearth every bit of information he could,” Bruce said. His face contorted in worry, and in an uncharacteristic gesture he unlinked his finger with Nat’s and fully closed her tiny hand in his own larger one. “We need to tell Tony. We don’t know what he’s discovered thus far. He could know  _ anything.”  _

His eyes flickered quickly to Peter’s stomach, so quick it was almost unnoticeable, but Peter blanched at the implication and wrapped his arms around his swollen stomach, trying to hide it. His bad hand no longer hurt. 

“I can’t,” he squeaked, wishing he also had someone he could reach for for comfort but all his hands found were folds of his own buttoned shirt or the cold edge of the counter. He shook his head weakly, swallowing around a knot that bobbed in his throat and refused to budge. “Tony can’t know yet. I need to figure it out first.” 

He knew Tony would be able to figure this out within seconds flat, but he would be furious. He would use strength and become reckless in his quest of saving Morgan. He would put them all in danger and Peter couldn’t afford letting Michael know that they were onto him. Not until they had a solid plan of action, something concrete that didn’t allow a single sliver of information to be left unturned. 

He looked around the bare bathroom, took note of the red customary towels hung next to the sink, the opened bathroom stalls and the faint scent of lemons and cleaners. It was far too bland and normal of a bathroom for him to have ever guessed it belonged to such a high, posh restaurant. It was very… normal. 

Needing something to do with his hands, Peter grabbed one of the towels and crouched down on the floor, a hand pressed against his back for support, and began to mop up the blood left there. 

“Leave it,” Nat said, her hand on his shoulder. “They’ll send someone in,” 

But Peter couldn’t. Tony from the other planet always reminded him to never leave a mess behind, especially one that involved any of his blood or bodily fluids. Too many people wanted a peak at his DNA structure and leaving behind anything they could use was reckless. Potentially catastrophic, and somethings from there were just so ingrained in his mind he couldn’t shake the habits. 

“You may not understand why I’m asking for your silence,” Peter mumbled, eyebrows pinched from the strain on his back from the position. He stood with great effort, both his knees and back cracking in protest, and puffed out his cheeks with effort. “But I can’t have Tony running into this blindly. I don’t know what Michael wants. Morgan is safe for now, Loki said he plays games and we’re only in the middle stages, and until we understand him and his intentions better we can’t bring anyone else into this mess. I don’t need to risk their safety.”  _ I can’t risk Tony’s safety.  _

Nat opened her mouth to speak, right as the bathroom door was opening. Bucky appeared, the clink if his metal arm against the bathroom door chilling to Peters sensitive ears. “The wait staff is getting anxious with you three in here. They keep attempting to call an ambulance but Tony has managed to hold them off.” He turned kind, curious eyes to Peter and first looked at his bandaged hand before they found the towel he was still holding. Understanding flickered in his eyes, and he held a hand out, intentionally ignoring the spool of spiderweb that lay partially disintegrated by Peter’s feet. “Here, let me see that. I’ll see to it that it’s properly disposed of. I’ll pour some bleach on it in the kitchen before I let them throw it out,” no comments on his weird behavior, no backlashing or reminders on how fucked his mind was- just a simple, kind understanding passed from one broken soul to another. 

Peter smiled gratefully, even if it fell into a grimace, and passed the towel to Bucky with minimal thought. He trusted him, oddly enough. Months ago he probably wouldn’t have, claiming the man was too lustful for Steve to have a solo thought, but Peter could see now that assessment wasn't true. Parts of himself were guarded from Steve, parts, it seemed, him and Peter shared in common. Dark and twisted, with no sense evident in the actions, but necessary for sanity and survival. “We’ll be out in a moment,” 

Bucky nodded. “I’ll be in with a bucket of bleach water. Tony’s already taken care of the table cloth. Anything else in here?” He surveyed the room and pointed at the glass shards Bruce had dumped in the sink. “Hand me those.” Bruce did as instructed, and when they were left alone Peter exhaled a deep breath and turned to face them. 

“It’s a lot, and it’s dangerous, but I need your word you will not tell Tony. If not for me, do it for Morgan. If Michael finds out we’re onto him, there’s no telling what he’ll do to Morgan.” 

Bruce looked conflicted, while Nat not so much. “I won’t tell him,” she made the gesture of locking her lips and even handed Peter the key. He giggled soundlessly but gratefully. 

“I don’t like it, but I won’t tell him either,” Bruce finally decided with a grunt. “But no doing this on your own. Both Nat and I are to be kept in the loop or I’ll go directly to Tony.” 

“Fair,” 

“And if this gets even the slightest bit more dangerous, Tony will be informed. I’m staying quiet out of respect for you, but I will not stand by while you put yourself in danger.” Bruce still looked hesitant, like he didn’t understand  _ how _ Peter has managed to keep this all held inside, safe from others minds, while worrying about so many other things. His overbearing worry slipped out a few times with movements to help Peter stand or just worried glances, a trait brought on by being Peter’s main physician, but he was staying true to his word on trusting Peter and not telling him what he could and could not handle. It was refreshing, setting his own limits, even if his heart did clench with anxiety. 

What Bruce lastly said was also fair, and not at all a ridiculous request. Peter gave a curt nod. “Loki will be calling me tomorrow night.” 

“We’ll be at the after-party Tony is hosting to celebrate the signing of the accords.” Nat pointed out, shifting her weight from foot to foot. It must be uncomfortable standing in heels for so long, but you never would have guessed she was in any discomfort.

“Then Peter will find us the moment he calls,” Bruce said, looking at Peter questioningly. At the nod of confirmation, he continued. “We’re hosting it in the Gala room on the main floor of our hotel. It will be easy to slip away and talk to Loki on a separate floor. We’ll be all but five minutes, so I doubt anyone will miss our presence.” 

Nothing further was said, because Bucky was walking into the room with a mop and a bucket full of water that stunk heavily of bleach. He offered them a charming smile and Peter’s heart swelled in his chest. He looked so casual mopping up the smears of Peter’s blood, so unbothered, and Peter was so thankful Steve had found him all those years ago. He was perfect for the man. 

“Thank you,” he said, wanting to give the man a hug but he was standing on the side with his metal arm and it was a sensitive area for Bucky, so he avoided it all together and instead smiled. 

“Not a worry. Go out there and reassure everyone you’re still alive. You’ve been gone nearly half an hour and Wanda is threatening to use magic,” 

Peter laughed, his mind conjuring an image of Wanda floating into the bathroom on a red currant with every single occupant in the restaurant held captive by her magic just so she could make sure Peter was fine. 

Walking out of the bathroom with both his arms linked with Nat’s and Bruce felt surreal. He knew he acted upset and offish to them about them finding out, but it felt so much lighter to have other people know of this little secret. He was no longer having to deal with this alone, and that felt amazing. There were so many unknown factors, but with them on his team he knew they would figure this out. They  _ had _ to. 

Otherwise, there was no hope. 

It was only when he saw Tony pacing the floor, matching the length of the table with ease as fingers combed through his disheveled hair, that he remembered exactly what had happened. He’d freaked out, over a waitress simply giving her number to Tony- a man who was seemingly single and up for grabs. He never corrected her assumption, never offered valid proof that he was currently months deep in an impractical relationship with his mentee who had, unfortunately, become pregnant. She was innocent, yet Peter hated her. He’s never felt hate for a person more strongly then he does now, and it was startling. Thanos seemed to be a shadow in her presence, and he knew he was hopelessly lost. It didn’t matter his decision, or mindset. Tony would forever be his, but he couldn’t have him. And he needed to accept that. 

So when Tony went to reach for Peter, eyes wild and desperate- attempting to fortify a reassurance that Peter was okay, his cold gaze a blizzard of snowflakes on his skin that lingered on his injured hand- he passed by the man and continued to walk. Tony wasn’t allowed to be seen with him in public, and Peter didn’t want to injure this night any further. “I will be heading back to the hotel,” he informed the other guests, eyes apologetic and round. “I am sorry about my..  _ Incident  _ tonight. It seems I miscalculated the pressure I was putting on the glass. All is fine, though. I am patched up and Dr. Banner took very good care of me.”

Murmurs arose in the restaurant, some apologetic, some remorseful, some curious and others bidding him a goodnight. None particularly stook out but one gaze. And when Peter followed it, he found Tony was watching him intently- hurt and curiousness drawing together his perfectly sculpted brows. 

Peter shrugged, as if to apologize for  _ everything,  _ and smiled in a way that was meant to be soft and kind but was rather full of sorrow. A time that was not meant to be theirs had come and passed, and now the child was what remained to show for their borrowed moments. Peter would forever be grateful, but he couldn’t linger. He couldn’t obsess over Tony or their relationship. So much more was at stake, so much more that needed to take precedence. Until he figured out what was going on with Michael, he couldn’t seek a relationship with Tony. It was settled. 

As he walked out of the restaurant unattended, he knew Tony knew it, too. 


	8. Twenty four hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY! Before you begin, I did something a little different. I've been vague with Tony's responses and decisions, and its all coming to fruition. I wanted to paint him as a villain, sort of, for all the right reasons and it will be explained in this chapter! I'm still finding my voice with Tony, so enjoy this chapter of discovery with me! I hope you can see as it is all slowly starting to come together. 
> 
> This chapter IS in Tony's POV (third POV still) and you'll see why. Let me know if you like reading it from his perspective? It was fun writing him and getting a peak inside his mind, now that we’ve ventured further into the plot. (: his thought process is surely... interesting. Lmao. 
> 
> Also, the beginning part, in Italics, occurs roughly three years after Peter's disappearance. I thought I would clear that up. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Xx

_ The room wasn’t just quiet; it was eerily still. Cold, the lack of warmth evident even with the low whir of the heater vents sputtering out an over abundance of invisible, thick clouds of heat. He could feel them brushing the exposed skin at his ankles, his jeans hazardously rolled up with denim creasing over denim at the crease above his shoes. His unkempt hair fell in front of his eyes, curling in tufts of peppered hair that was, now, admittedly more grey than the obsolete brown it once was.  _

_ The absence of warmth wasn’t from a malfunction of the heating system rooted deep within the tower- no, it was much deeper. As if the tiled floor and leather-black chair could sense something was wrong- gone. Dum-E was even still, the usual whir of his metallic arms clattering across the counter tops in search of his most recent journey of discovery- attempting to find something to make himself useful. He stopped moving after day three, with no apparent reason and no shut off button in sight. Tony missed his recklessness.  _

_ And the tower missed Peter Parker. Even at the reminder of the name, Tony felt his heart clench painfully as a bolt of guilt and regret pierce through his stomach- shredding at his heart already swimming in a pool of alcohol. The desk remained cluttered, abandoned experiments strewn hazardously across the metal surface with beakers filled with the beginning materials for Peter’s webbing-fluid. Now, even years later with no use, the residue clung to the ring around the bottom of the crystal-glass with white specks, awaiting the moment it was rehydrated and given the opportunity to save the world.  _

_ Tony knew he had mourned long enough- too long, some would say, for a man who had lost a kid he knew for such a limited amount of time. But even a second can change someone’s life and there was no arguing that Peter Parker had changed Tony Stark. In the presence, some would argue and ask if it was for the better. Wonder if knowing the small-timed superhero was jestering in Tony’s benefit, but the man knew the answer. And so did Dum-E. _

_ Life wasn’t complete without the energized boy bouncing around the lab, talking animatedly as he took advantage of the state of the art equipment offered to him, throwing casual- “I’m sorry Mr. Stark,” over his shoulder whenever one of his experiments went haywire and shot out puddles of green goo or exploded in clouds of purple smoke. Tony never asked- yet Peter always explained.  _

“I was trying to manipulate my webbing fluid and see if I could transcribe the molecules to strengthen the bonds and increase the vitality of the fluid. Could you imagine what I could do, Mr. Stark? The tensile strength is limited currently because of the disintegration period and the moment I use the webbing the components begin to break down and corrupt the data, but what if I managed to isolate a certain molecule? I could hold up a building without worrying about my webbing snapping,” _ his eyes had been full of stars, then, and Tony pawed at his own eyes to erase the memory. Peter’s excitement, as palpable then as it was now, fed into the pulsating hole that consumed Tony’s heart the second dust filled his palms in place of a warm body, but nothing filled it. Nothing even scratched the surface.  _

_ The cold now was even more evident, brushing across Tony’s exposed clavicles from where his tank-top dipped down to expose the peaked tip of thick scar-tissue. He shivered at the offense, arms wrapping around himself in a futile attempt to warm himself, to maintain a little bit of heat that seemed to be seeping from his bones with each labored breath. The movement was sudden, his knee hitting the corner of his desk, jostling the items on top and unsettling them just enough that a pencil fell to clatter across the floor, followed by the brown picture frame that had, previously, been overturned in its face-down coffin on Tony’s desk. He lunged to grab it, fingers brushing the glossy wood but he curled them a second too late and it fell to the floor with a gut-clenching shatter. His fingers closed around nothing, and a choked sob caught in his throat, refusing to make it beyond his adam’s apple. _

_ It was still for a moment, following the sound of broken glass shifting across broken glass- crushed beneath the weight of wood and memories. When he finally built up the courage to bend forward and pick up the picture, shards falling between his fingers like droplets of water, his entire body was shaking and not from the cold or the alcohol coursing in his veins. Cascading from his weak grip were memories, pleas, giggles and brown eyes- all encircled around Peter clutching desperately at Tony, their bodies perfectly aligned; chest to chest, heart to thundering heart. He could feel it now, the staccato against his chest, paving a path that led Peter directly there and the day that he disappeared in a cloud of dust, Tony felt his heart shrivel up and die.  _

_ An entirely heroic death, some would argue. Clutching to the one you love, gazing into their eyes- feeling their warmth and smelling their scent.  _

_ Tony shoved away the sudden onslaught of emotions- suffocating, blinding; rage; a barely concealed growl that died on his lips then suddenly exploded as he plucked the glossy photo from its wooden confines and held it tightly between nimble fingers. Peter’s proud eyes gleamed from the photo, forever immortalized, forever imprinted in Tony’s heart. He can remember the solid imprint of Peter’s body pressed against his, held beneath his arm, shielded from the worlds prying gaze like Tony’s puny arm could truly act like a wing of protection. It was bittersweet and painful; stinging to recollect on the events that led up to the photo.  _

_ His bottom lip wobbled before he could stop the offensive reaction, and something hot swelled in his throat like a balloon inflated with helium. He couldn’t swallow past it, think beyond it. His nasal cavity was filled with a pressure that was unyielding behind his eyes, a mirrored effect to the solid weight of pressure constraining his chest; clutched like an iron fist.  _

_ He was never enough. For Pepper, for Peter- for  _ Morgan.  _ He couldn’t save the kid and now- now, he couldn’t even save himself. A patch of something cold trailed down his cheek, claiming with the reflection of crystals captured in the single droplet, and it fell heavy to the photo. He didn’t look away in time, let his eyes linger a second too long and the offensive wetness soon registered in his mind as a tear. One single, lone tear that fell to rest on the photo, posing as a illuminating light that nestled perfectly, and daunting, right above the location of the arc reactor. It wasn’t visible in the photo, the glow of his lifeline, but he could still see it. Watch as it flickered with Peter’s name, with his breath- his dying words- “ _ I’m sorry sir,”

_ “I’m coming for you kid,” he whispered, the past three years swirling around him in a suffocating tornado that had been consuming his every waking thought, decision- jostling him towards the heroic path but teetering him towards being the alcoholic failure. It stilled at the decision, contemplated Tony’s sincerity, then in a gust of wind- that warmth returned.  _

_ —— (one day after the baby shower) _

Something more than irritation but less dominating than anger swelled in his chest, planting the comparison in his head of a small droplet of blood swelling at the top of a finger after being pricked by a tiny needle, or perhaps a rose thorn? It was an annoying sensation, yet manageable. The blood was an outcome that couldn’t be avoided, yet Tony hasn’t come to the decision if he wants to trim the rose bush or let it have its few gratifying months of life with his blood tainting that one little thorn. 

Then the rose bush spoke, and he realized zoning out during an essential interrogation; less formal but no less amusing, probably wasn’t the antagonists wanted outcome. “Do you find this funny, Tony? Because I can drag the little freak in here by his ear and deal with him instead.” 

The rose bush was not, in fact, a rose bush- but now a peacock and Tony may just want to ruffle his feathers up a little bit. “I find many things amusing- Hulk throwing Loki around like a rag doll, Steve walking around with blue balls when Bucky refuses to drop to his knees an-“ 

The peacock transformed into a towering male with skin the complexion of burnt dark chocolate that gleamed harshly in the low hung, yellow light, and he had Tony shoved against the wall before the man could even react. His distraction led to his guard being down- that, or it was the lack of threat, but the peacock man had a fistful of Tony’s shirt, jacket and all, and his knuckles were pressing hard against the base of his throat. 

“Sorry, I’m all for rough sex but I’m taken I’m afraid,” his grin was all teeth and arrogance, illustrating his boredom and the complete absence of fear. He wouldn’t be scared into submission, not by this man and certainly not by anyone else. 

The responding growl wasn’t intimidating in the least, but Tony feigned fear and with a calculated thought, his eyes widened just a fraction- thoroughly ruffling the feathers. “This isn’t a game. We need to discuss Peter.”

He bristled at the mention of Peter’s name, then his eyes softened into muted cauldrons of Amber-liquid, no less enchanted despite his attempts at remaining anonymous in his fondness. “What about him? Don’t tell me he’s sprouted an additional six legs and has scoured the building,” It was humor fueled, but held a beat of fear.

The man, who was quickly melting into the exact replica of Fury, latched on to that fear, sensed it like a shark hunting for that droplet of blood, and curled his hand tighter in the material. His grin was animalistic and made Tony’s stomach flip-flop. “That’s your problem. You make a joke out of everything and it’s about time you stop prancing around and take responsibility. I have a job to do, Tony. You do as well. Either you stop seeing Peter or SHIELD will step in and take necessary measures to ensure the relationship ends.” 

“And if it doesn’t?” His nose was held in the air with a teenage defiance he’d learned from studying Peter’s strongest attributes as he’d grown, but his voice was as solid as iron. He refused to link this man to Fury because surely Fury has enough intellect to  _ know _ not to mess with Tony’s personal life or tell him to do something because when has Tony ever had the reputation of being a follower? He usually did the exact opposite. 

“Peter will have his title as an Avenger revoked, targeting him as a threat to the US Government. In the event that he refuses cooperation, he will be arrested indefinitely. As for the child, it will become a ward of the state and given the mysteries surrounding his conception, he will be test-“ 

“Why?” Tony snarled, his hand grabbing Fury’s wrist and they both knew even a fraction of strength, of will from Tony, and the man could break his hold. Break fury’s  _ wrist.  _ But he remained like that, just a warning to Fury, with his fingers creating crescent moons in the soft underside of his wrist. “Peter poses no threat to any of you and you know that. Why is my relationship with him suddenly cause for alarm?” 

“Have you  _ seen _ him lately, Tony? He’s already losing his grip with reality. I’ve managed to talk them out of arresting him immediately, but they won’t be satisfied until every possible threat is neutralized. You pose the biggest threat to Peter’s mental health-“ 

He was the reason Peter had become acquainted with Venom and went on some large vigilante strike where he took down the criminals with brute strength. His mental health has been incredibly twisted then, though Tony hadn’t witnessed it, but surely that wasn’t the case now? Right? He was happy, well- and then Michael’s face popped into mine. Was their relationship straining Peter’s mental stability? Tony has bestowed himself with the position as an anchor, falsely believing he was tethering Peter to the realms of sanity. But maybe that wasn’t the case. Just yesterday Peter went on a rant about the “rogue” babysitter, claiming he was some monster lurking in human skin. He sought out Loki’s help and their fight was still fresh. Tony’s heart was lapping at his open wounds in hopes it would soothe the sting at sudden realization that he- him, was the worst possible thing for Peter. 

“What if I agree?” He wasn’t giving in for a lack of emotions. He was giving in because he had an over abundance of them. Felt too much for suck a broken boy. “Peter? And the baby? They’ll be fine, right?” 

“If Peter signs the accords, yes. He’ll be fine.”

It was decided before Tony even vocalized his decision. He nodded, once, and shoved Fury’s hand away. 

“I’m telling you this because I once thought us to be friends-“ Tony said, shoulder to shoulder with Fury even though they both faced the opposite directions- his voice hitched with a little scratch from the imprint of Fury’s fingers inches below his Adam’s apple. The pressure hadn’t meant to be threatening, or deadly, just to bleed with a warning. Fury will stop at  _ nothing  _ to achieve their goal, even if it means finally taking down the evasive Iron Man. “The  _ second  _ I find a way around this, I am coming for you.  _ All _ of you. Consider this a warning, Fury.” 

“A warning for what, Tony? What do you plan on doing?” 

The man walked a few steps down the hallway, turned abruptly and held his hands up in an aborted shrug. “A warning to keep your good eye open. Now get the fuck out of my tower before I decide to make good on my promise and end you right now.” 

The reality of his brief agreement with Fury was just settling on his shoulders as he rode the elevator up to his labs, rather to his room with Peter. He couldn’t do it- couldn’t face him knowing he has to end their relationship. In order for the boy to officially become and remain an avenger- to keep his safety. It was a stipulation amongst others, but the main set back regarding the new contract. Tony could not have an inner-relationship because they could not afford the catastrophic tragedies that were a potential outcome if they ever broke up and Peter lost control. It was either Tony stepped back, and became a silent mentor with his role as nothing more, and Peter became an avenger, or Peter would be arrested and tried as a threat to the US government and he would be imprisoned, like Tony had warned him time and time again. Their child ripped away and tested on. 

Tony has long since accepted his father bred him for one purpose; world restoration. He wasn’t meant to be happy, or have a family. His collateral; his debt, is his own happiness. To save Peter, it was worth it. To save their child? His happiness was out of the  _ question.  _ Some things were bigger than himself, and it seems like this life greeted Tony with nothing but stipulations. Perhaps it was because it was never meant to be his? He’s had his time, his happiness.

It was Peter’s turn. 

——- (The day before they left for Germany) 

If it had been possible for Tony’s irises to occlude his pupils all together, then Pepper had no doubt they would have done so. The anger was visible in the tremor of his hand, but expertly hidden behind a wary gaze. It was what a composed catastrophe looked like- confined to ensure limited casualties, but still dangerous.

“Slow down- take me through it again. They want you to  _ what?”  _

Tony has brewed over his anger for weeks, kept his little visit from Fury a secret but then it all came boiling out of him the second Pepper showed up with an invitation to sign the accords with Peter. He doesn’t know how she does it- how she so effortlessly pries information out of his lips, yet there he was. Spilling his guts to her like he was some over-emotional, hormone ridden teenage girl who just had her first rejection. 

“End my relationship with Peter,” Tony relayed for the thirteenth time. It seems like he wasn’t the only one having a hard time accepting it. 

“Why? You and Peter’s relationship have nothing to do with the accords or SHIELD.” Pepper looked as dumbfounded as Tony felt. 

He sagged back against the couch, looking every bit his previous age even though the luxury of aging wasn’t gifted to this particular skin. “I don’t know,” he admitted. 

He thought over Fury’s reasonings but they were all bullshit. Bucky was even more unhinged than Peter- fuck, than Tony himself, yet they didn’t have a problem with Bucky or Steve’s relationship. They encouraged it, thrust the two together in hopes they could tame one another. So why were they suddenly interested in the Avengers extracurricular activities? Tony’s especially? 

Him and Peter were  _ happy.  _ More than happy, admittedly. They found their rhythm, a place to belong, and now it all felt wrong again. 

The coldness was back. Seeping beneath his suit jacket, attacking his skin with prickling icicles and he couldn’t shake it off- away. Couldn’t rid himself of the sensation that something was  _ wrong _ because the truth lied in the absence of a presence by his side. A presence he’d grown accustomed to, allowed his body the luxury of commiting to his memory. The customary smell, peaches and honey with a hint of something he could only ever describe as pure, undiluted  _ sunshine,  _ was slowly fading with every cologne tainted inhale _ .  _ After his resurrection, his sense of smell had been heightened. Something he happily took advantage of every morning when he would nestle his nose between the juncture of Peter’s neck and shoulder, where the smell of his skin was so calm and soothing that Tony could pretend, for that moment, that he was fine, normal- perhaps  _ beyond  _ normal. 

But he couldn’t fucking do that anymore and he was  _ livid.  _

He wasn’t Peter’s downfall. He realized that on day three of their break, when he snuck into the room just to watch Peter sleep and the boy somehow sensed his presence because his thrashings stopped immediately and with sleep mussed hair and droopy eyes, he reached blindly for Tony’s hand and before capturing it, gave a crooked smile and whispered- “you came back,” before drifting into a deep sleep. They were keeping each other sane which begged the question. 

_ Why _ ? 

“They’re afraid?” Pepper offered after a few beats of silence, her eyebrows furrowed in deliberate concentration. At Tony’s snort, the man decidedly settling on the decision that it was such a ludicrous suggestion, Pepper scooted further towards the edge of her seat and uncrossed her legs. “No, honestly- hear me out.” 

At Tony’s raised eyebrows, imploring her to continue, Pepper flattened out her skirt and sat up just a little straighter. It’s been  _ ages _ since she’s had Tony’s undiluted attention. It felt weird, the prickle of his eyes across her skin; studying her- assessing her every move. Anxiety flared in her chest. 

“Peter must have attained some sort of characteristics from Thanos’ planet that are just starting to show. Before, he was timid. Easily pliable and confined. He listened to reason, and would never question an authority figure. But here? He’s ascertained his own free will. He doesn’t cower down and he’s willingly subjected himself to the public’s eye. They can’t control his image and they knew, if you hadn’t agreed to him signing the accords, Peter never would either. It restricts his ability to roam around freely as Spider-Man. He’d never willingly give it up, so they used a fear factor. Something that was just brought to their attention.” 

“The baby?” Tony asked, attempting to keep up. 

“The baby,” Pepper echoed, nodding. “But it still doesn’t explain  _ why _ . They’re used to having no control. You signed the accords, yet they have no control over you…” 

She trailed off, something nagging in the back of her mind- demanding she make the connection but she couldn’t see it. What her mind was piecing together so flawlessly yet invisibly. 

Then it slammed into her. “His DNA.” 

It was something they didn’t have access to because Peter was a minor. Tony has denied them access since the beginning, but now- with the new knowledge of Peter’s unique reproduction system, he was invaluable. A literal breakthrough for human biology. If they could study his DNA? Figure out what components that gave him not only the ability to reproduce, but a heightened sense of smell and vision? With superior strength and a fast healing rate? They could make an invincible army. 

Tony realized it a second later, it seemed, if the sudden stillness was anything to judge by. It was somehow more terrifying than an outburst. A composed anger was  _ lethal,  _ especially with Tony Stark’s keen mind focused on it. 

“They used me against him,” Tony said, his voice deadly quiet. Pepper held positively still so as to not direct his attention or thought process onto her, making her the recipient for his anger. “They knew I would somehow push him towards signing it. If I was given the ultimatum between his freedom and his safety, they knew I would do anything to keep him safe.”

“Thus giving them a reason to collect his DNA without you thinking anything of it,” Pepper confirmed, terrified by what this all meant. It was too complex for a simple afternoon conversation. Then again, she expected nothing less. Especially when Tony directly  _ summons  _ her to his office. 

When he stood, Pepper followed his movement and placed a hand on his chest. “Tony don’t do this.” She warned.

“Do what?” he seethed, and now she saw it. The tiny ripple at the corner of his self control; anger lapping at the edges and hedging into focus like a brightly burning ember. Before, she never saw Tony like this. His anger was always the focal point of his existence. It wasn’t hidden or masked; it was fed. But now? In light of his resurrection, of his growing emotions and strengthening bonds? It was collected in a jar, slowly rationed out. Controlled. He wasn’t emotionally conflicted like his previous self. He was emotionally orientated and somehow managed to focus everything on this singular event. He was focused, and she refrained from shrinking back at the sight. 

Yet, he was still going to be reckless and risk it all. 

“Don’t do whatever it is you’re about to do,” she breathed, pleading, hoping her touch was anchoring enough to offer him lucidity. “They’ll deny your every accusation and you have no proof. Venom is a legible reason to want you and Peter separated- even if that  _ is  _ the original reason Peter was introduced to him.”

“What do you suggest we do then, Pepper? They’ll take his DNA and-”

“Give me some time,” she said, “but play the role they want you to and don’t tell Peter anything. You have to let him believe that your relationship is over.”

A man had never looked attractive when sad, yet Tony managed to make Pepper’s heart yearn for the young man she’d stumbled upon one day so many years ago. He was thoroughly crushed; eyebrows curling against one another and his eyes widening with grief. Yet entrapped in the gaze was a love, so fresh and deep rooted, that it made her partially envious of Peter. She tried, for years, to be on the receiving end of that look. Of many of Tony’s looks, yet never once had it been so authentic. Not even when Tony had been posed with the risk of losing her, time and time again. Losing Peter though, it seemed, would be the very end of Tony’s existence. 

“I can’t do that,” he whispered, his eyes softening incrementally and dissolving into a pool of golden honey. “I can’t let him think that, for even a second, I don’t want him. I just-” he cut off to shake his head, hurt a compass guiding his actions and the anger evaporated from his spine; forcing him to slouch forward, almost as if he was folding in on himself to hide the pain. 

His forehead was pressed against Pepper’s shoulder, her body acting entirely as the foundation to keep him uprooted, but it was nothing more. No intimacy, no desire. No deep-rooted lust hidden behind her actions as she threaded her fingers through the back of his hair as a silent comfort. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to.”

\---- (present)

Peter left, and Tony couldn’t leave with him. With people to still entertain, he couldn’t follow after them for fear of his intentions being misperceived and assumed to be for the wrong idea. Or rather the right, but that was beside the point. They would see through his facade and  _ know _ that Tony hadn’t vocally proclaimed his need of space to Peter. That rather than asserting a distance, he rather held on to the hope of tomorrow being promised for them despite everything going against that very fantasy. 

Fury couldn’t know, so Tony stayed. With Peppers hand on his shoulder, the soft shake of her head was a reminder of what he was fighting for. He’d been so tempted to give in to Peter at the hotel, to dish out what he deserves; knowing he could give the boy the entire universe and it would never be enough.  _ Nothing  _ would ever be enough. 

Simply requesting they were made public wasn’t such an absurd idea. Tony  _ liked _ the idea of claiming him, but he couldn’t. Not yet, anyway. Not until they gained a vantage point on Fury- found an angle that has yet to be exercised. 

He almost told Peter everything too, but it was dangerous. And Peter didn’t need to worry. 

Flirting with the waitress was easier to do than he’d originally thought, once he became detached from himself. It was necessary, with every set of eyes trained in him. He had an image the withstand- he wasn’t  _ with _ Peter, and the withery man at the head of the table had to have assurance of that, even if it ended with the table being stripped clean and Peter leaving with a bandaged hand. 

“Where were we?” A soft voice purred in his ear, violent purple fingernails scratching down his chest and catching on a button of his shirt. She corrected her mistake and smoothed her hand over his breastbone, finding a smooth canvas never to be marred with thick ridges from the arc reactor. 

He tensed at the contact and smiled tightly, his uncomfortableness obvious to only those who were trained. Pepper offered him an apologetic smile and he lifted his shoulder in a half shrug, as if to ask, “ _ what can I do?”  _

“I believe you were about to tell me the price for the ice cream dish. It can’t have been cheaply made and I fully intend to replace it,” he kept his tone polite, if not formal, trying to isolate her desire from his distaste. He did  _ not _ want the tea she was serving, yet he couldn’t dismiss her efforts without calling his true emotions to attention. 

He was a playboy. He  _ never _ turned down an offer to bed a girl down, so he surely couldn’t now with no valid reason. 

She hesitated at the sudden detachment, unaware of why Tony who had, an hour prior, been more than willing to be om the receiving end of her affection and attention- was suddenly acting impassive to her every advancement. “I uh-“ she blinked, once, and pulled back her hand- understanding it was no longer welcome. “I’ll ask the owner and include it to your bill,” 

She bowed her head and left without another word, relieving the sudden ache in Tony’s gut and the worry of being caught. His eyes focused on the man at the head of the table, Senator Richard Lee. A leery man who was a spineless, slimy idiot often believing to hold more power than he truthfully did. His fondness of cinnamon buns was evident in the roundness of his stomach; his discomfort pinching his brows together from having his stomach pressed so tightly against the table in his attempts to appear slimmer than he was. 

His age was racking up, increasingly climbing to the sixties and he was one of the eldest members to be associated with Sheild- and, unfortunately, he was one of the lowest ranked members. Anything Tony did or said to him would mean little to the higher ups, the  _ real _ people in charge. Richard was a pawn. A hairless, beady eye pawn who was still focused intently on Peter despite the boy being gone. 

“-ry grateful to have him. We’ve recently been briefed on his abilities and he’s a remarkable you man,” Richard droned, the timber of his voice low and wobbly. It was comforting, in a way- reminding Tony of a grandparent, or someone of relevant age who he held close to his heart. It was a shame he never liked any of his grandparents, truthfully. 

“Are you grateful for him? Or his genetics?” Tony countered, interrupting a conversation he wasn’t privy to. His tented fingers came together, palm to palm, before he waved a dismissive hand at Pepper’s warning glare. Richard, drawn to a muteness at Tony’s sudden interjection, closed and opened his mouth- flabbergasted by the insinuation even if a little bit of truth trickled at the corner of his smile. 

“Him, of course. Mr. Parker is more than his genetics. He’s a smart, strapping young man. As I’m sure you’re aware,” the tip of Richards head forward was a silent invitation for Tony to continue, to keep pressing the matter so it ended with Peter locked up. The man's wrinkled face looked innocent enough, but his smugness was there. He wanted Tony to continue;  _ dared  _ him. 

But Tony didn’t bite. His eyes flared at the man's comment, but beyond that he checked his emotions and kept them held closely to his chest. “Yes, yes.  _ Peter _ has quite a few talents,” Tony’s returning smirk was weighted with so many insinuations that even Richards ignorant ass couldn’t ignore them. Richard’s face reddened in color, anger clashing with embarrassment. “He’ll be a valuable asset.” 

“It sounds like you’re agreeing with one another, but your facial expressions counter that observation,” Wanda said, ever observant and direct. 

Tony turned his gaze to her, aware of the rapt attention the side of his face was receiving. “I agree with him fully. Peter comes highly recommended with many gifts- he’ll certainly be a valuable asset to both SHIELD and the avengers. As will his genetics, I’m sure.”

He was going to get an earful from Fury tonight, no doubt, but he was bored and it was mildly entertaining to ruffle the old man's feathers. 

Tony thought of jabbing at his age but the truth is, he was only a few years younger than him. This body didn’t show that, of course, but Tony still  _ felt _ it. Age was more than just a number- the earth had far too much influence on his mind for so many years, and he couldn’t just forget that. The long days spent wasting away, much like Richard was, no doubt. This dinner was probably the only outting he’s received in ages. Then again, it was a pity dinner. They needed a representative here but couldn’t be bothered to send someone of importance. 

“Mr. Stark, I’ve never heard you speak so highly of someone without grooming your own ego in the process. Mr. Parker must hold _ special _ place in your heart.” Richard was challenging him again. 

Tony’s lip curled up, a mute reaction that barely conveyed his budding anger. Richard was  _ far _ too comfortable digging his talons into Tony’s flesh. He wanted Tony to take the bate, nite the line he was casting, and incriminate himself. “Regardless of personal feelings,” Tony said with a centering breath, “Peter deserves all the recognition he can get. His success doesn’t involve me in  _ any _ way.”  _ Only, it sort of did.  _

Richard gave a thoughtful hum, and waved a hand towards the waitress Tony had just been flirting with. He stiffened in his seat, unaware of the mans sudden turn of attention and what he was planning on doing. “Bring out a bottle of wine, the best you have.” No please, no thank you, no acknowledgement of her time or effort. Just a barked demand. 

That’s what happens to people who think so highly of themselves- they lose their manners and sight of themselves. Tony was guilty of that, too. Iron Man saved some semblance of his manners, but Peter humbled him. He couldn’t lose that. He  _ refused.  _

The twisted grin he offered Richard was  _ sure  _ to convey just that, hopefully. 

“Wine, Tony?” Richard asked when the waitress returned with a bottle of wine. He produced a glass half full of the deep-red liquid. 

Tony wanted to decline, but doing so would just raise another round of red flags so he took the offered glass and managed not to grumble. 

Scotch, whiskey- alcohol, it doesn’t taste the same. In the folds of the silky liquid, he was once able to find comfort in the caramel notes with the sea and earth tumbling behind the revelation. A meadow of flowers would spring to life on his tongue, contending with the peppery bitter undertones. And now? It tasted like... something acidic and scornful, not meant for his consumption and he loathed it. His body- his tongue, his augmented taste buds. 

He eyed the glass of wine accusingly, bestowing it with a guilt not its own, and wondered if it would taste the same? Would he separate the berries from the aging flowers? Perhaps dissect it enough to inhale the faint tinginess of smoke under lapping the layers of flavors. He knew that to be a ridiculous conception, thought- but he wanted to try.

A shallow sip revealed rotting grapes and scorched lilacs. His face was hard to read, with serenity smoothing out the wrinkles, but his eyes were sorrowful as he forced down the smallest swallow and eyed the table full of people suspiciously. Maybe it wasn’t him who was odd, maybe others would come to realize his revelation and demand a new bottle. 

It was wishful thinking. 

Pepper sipped happily at her wine, graceful and elegant, while Bucky drank true to his identity, looking ever like a soldier in the lowlight restaurant, as he inhaled swallow after swallow like a fish greedily sucking in gallons of water. 

So, it  _ was  _ just Tony, after all.

For a brief moment he considered Richard having poisoned it, but he watched the man open it. Watched him  _ pour _ it, so that solution was out of the equation. He just wasn’t the same. 

The night dwindled from there. There was more idle conversation, back and forth banter between Wanda and Clint, a sulking Banner- Nat, thankfully, left with Peter to ensure he was returned safely- but nothing out of the ordinary happened. When it was time to turn in, the suvs lined the sidewalk to the restaurant and the drivers bowed in greeting before opening the doors. 

Pepper forced her way in after Tony, shoving him against the door and slamming the other door before anyone else could clamber in. “What the hell was that?” 

“I don’t want to argue, Pepper,” Tony felt a fine pressure building between his eyes, signaling an impending headache and he  _ hated _ Peter for making that a possibility. 

She settled her handbag across her lap, legs hooked at the ankles, and she looked every bit like a mother. Tired, with bags hiding beneath her concealer but after a day's wear, the mask was slowly fading. She sighed, a sound filled to the brim with worry. Tony often forgets how much she endures from day to day. How much she truly puts up with, and how many people rely on her. “I’m not arguing. I just don’t want you to blow this up.” That was the reason he’d been drawn to her from the beginning. Her compassion- her worry for others. She often sought out the most broken, fragile souls and helped build and reconform them. It was never her fault Tony never let her help him or took her advice. 

Not for the first time, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last, Tony was reminded that he wasn’t alone. Peter has touched a lot of people, however fleeting their encounter. “I won’t,” he promised, “I know what’s at stake.” 

—-

He couldn’t wait twenty four hours.

The goddamn kid has done it. He’d sufficiently worked his way right into the gates of Tony’s heart; waltzed in there as if he owned the place. He held very little thought or care for Tony’s reservations. Rather, he cast them aside and focused on making Tony feel whole again. Reminding him, in the aftermath of Thanos, that there was still life. Still a reason to  _ live.  _

Tony originally thought that he’d set the pace. Was slowly lowering his walls and handing keys to Peter meant to unlock the chambers of his soul, but the absence of the boy brought the truth to his illusion. He thought he wasn’t showing anything he didn’t want to- kept parts of him for himself, secluded for safe keeping. Parts that wouldn’t be affected if Peter left. But upon further reflection, he realized how fucking naive he’d been. 

Every part of his body was stamped with one part of Peter- a kiss, a touch, a whisper or a memory. This wasn’t so easy to ignore at three A.M, when he was pacing the floor of his hotel room, knowing that just across the hallway was Peter’s sleeping form. Possibly lost deep in a soundless rest, thoughts not tainted by Tony even if the man's every waking thought had Peter in it. 

His body felt hollow, each step resonating the echoed sound brought on by this effect. He was plagued with this unhappiness, this restlessness, and it wouldn’t listen to reason. He wanted to hold Peter, to feel him and their child. To wake up in the morning with cold feet pressed into the bottom of his spine, or tiny little baby fists beating against his palm. He didn’t want to repeat past mistakes- miss out on Peter’s entire pregnancy like he had Pepper’s. And as much as he hated himself for it, he  _ wanted _ to be there for Peter. In a way he never wanted to be for Pepper. 

Fury had made it clear Tony was to forget, to move on, but he couldn’t. His soul was so entertained with Peter’s that separating the two was impossible. 

Back to his original point. He tried anchoring himself with some other thoughts. Some other comfort, but every corner- every single  _ crevice  _ of his mind has Peter there. Smiling at him. Waiting for Tony to come back and shine light on the darkened parts of his mind. Not even the terrible memories of his father could compare or squander the loneliness rooted deep in his bones. Claiming every sane thought for its own. 

And finally, he gave in. 

He threw open his door, stalked across the hallway, and froze with his knuckles hovering over the wood. Was it fair? To put this on Peter? To continue going back and forth, acting wishy-washy and unsure of his emotions? Peter deserved  _ so _ much more. He couldn’t instigate a relationship not knowing what tomorrow brings. It was dangerous; setting Peter up for a life sentence. A hell much worse than Thanos’ planet. Tony just hopes that the damage woven in the present, won’t cause lasting damage or impressions. He doesn’t want this situation to be irreversible. 

_ Twenty four hours,  _ he reminded himself. _ Just twenty four hours. _

Retreating back to his bedroom, Tony loosened his neck tie and draped it over the back of his wooden desk chair before he untucked his shirt and skillfully undid the first three buttons, revealing his tan chest. He blinked at the reflection, still having a hard time looking in the mirror and associating this body with his old body but it was getting easier. Incrementally so, but he could now smooth fingers over his breast bone and  _ not _ want to immediately claw his way from a skin that didn’t fit. 

It was crazy, to him. To acknowledge how he feels now, and remember back when Peter was gone; how he was woken up nightly to the sounds of his own screams. Only, in the pale moon and silk sheets, he realized it wasn’t him that was screaming. It was his skin  _ screaming _ because it missed Peter so much. It fought to climb off his bones; begged to travel across time and space to find a sliver in The Soul of Realms and find Peter itself. 

It was much like that, now. Inching in the direction of Peter’s room and Tony had to close his eyes to focus on  _ anything  _ but the soft heartbeat he could feel tickling against his eardrums. He knew it was an illusion, something he’d conjured up for comfort, but it still soothes him enough that he managed to pull off his pants and fold them delicately- something Peter has instilled in him, before setting them on the seat of the chair. 

He debated taking off his socks, weighed the pros and cons of having to bend over, and decided to keep them on. Settling into bed was another thing that was unusual. He hasn’t slept in days, nor has he had a good rest in weeks. His body, for some reason, only relaxed while in Peter’s presence. Somehow  _ sensing _ he wasn’t a danger. 

Without Peter? The shadows looked very daunting and dangerous and Tony couldn’t be too sure. 

His destructive impulses were encouraging him to go across the hallway, wake Peter up and  _ hold _ him, Fury and the Government be damned. He wanted to nestle into the boy's warmth, hear as he excitedly recites his day's events even if it consists entirely of replayed events Tony had witnessed, too. Through Peter’s lips, he was experiencing a whole new world. Watching it through a new perspective, and it was refreshing.  _ Missed.  _

_ “And he grabbed him, Tony! He threw him over his metal shoulder and Steve tried to get away but Bucky wouldn’t let him,” Peter exclaimed, hands waving around dangerously with toothpaste splattering the walls and painting Tony’s pajamas with white flecks of spearmint.  _

_ Yet, Tony watched on with unbridled admiration. “Yeah?” He asked around his own mouth full of toothpaste. “What happened next?”  _

_ Peter squealed and lunged forward, spitting out his frothy toothpaste before he was jamming the bristles back into his mouth and talking around the plastic. “Steve tried to flip himself over Bucky’s shoulder but it went  _ so _ wrong,” the enunciation on ‘so’ made Tony’s heart putter. “They somehow tipped over the couch, knocked over your expensive flower vase- but Bruce caught that! He lunged forward with a speed none of us knew he had in his human form and ohmygod Tony! Could you imagine how insane it would be if Bruce had Hulk’s strength even when not all greened-out” _

_ The topic of the conversation deterred down an entirely different road now with Bruce the main focal point, Tony shifting focus with only mild difficulty because this was a nightly thing. Peter began one story, started another half way through and abandoned both to circle around with a third that ended with them curling up in bed and him falling to sleep before he could ever finish his final thought.  _

Tony listened. Never interrupted, and always encouraged him. And when the sun kissed their skin the next morning, gracing them with yet another beautiful day where co-existing came as second nature, Tony’s perspective on his teammates were forever altered. He saw a sweet, soft Nat curled up in fluffy pajamas and cuddling with a morning-sick Peter. Looked at Bucky and Steve now and saw the mushiness emitting from their every movement, watched as they danced around each other with a grace and naturalness that would put trained ballerinas to shame; the glide of their bodies eliciting a soft hum that carried everyone in the room around on it’s invisible current. Guiding a sleepy eyed- Bruce towards the coffee pot with a doe-eyed Nat watching his every movement. Coaxing a grumpy Wanda from her cocoon of blankets, encouraging her participation as a cup of tea floated across the room on a red currant and placed itself in her hands, like it belonged there. Like it was rightfully taking up residency in a place it was always meant to be. 

On rare occasions, Tony even saw himself through Peter’s eyes. Rather than loose skin and mutilated bones, he saw a man worth loving. A man who, in turn, loved everyone so fiercely. His love was a dedication. A promise to protect each and everyone of them to the best of his power. He often played a reckless game of touch and go, seeing who he could harm in his quest of tearing himself apart- but in those rare moments, where he was himself reflected in Peter’s eyes- he was  _ amazing.  _ No competition. No fruitless attempts at garnering a love because it was already his. He didn’t have to be reckless, or pluck apart the world one feather at a time. He could just.. Exist. 

It was a beautiful fantasy.

Stretching out across his bed, Tony lazily scratched at his torso, using the faint itch as an excuse to move because he couldn’t stand sitting still but there was nothing else to steal away his attention. His phone buzzed on the corner of his desk, lighting up with what he was assuming to be the millionth work-related email, or something of equal importance, and it was tempting to lose himself to the complexity of his job. Whatever that is- nobody really answered it. Apparently, he just did what he wanted. 

But the bed caressed his aching joints and took the pressure off his crying spine, alleviating some of the pain plaguing his daily routine and he knew it all to be psychological, the pain, anyway. But it still felt nice. To relax and give into the tranquil nothingness the hotel was offering, so long as he kept his mind blank of a specific brown eyed boy.

But then his thoughts strayed.

On the car ride back to the hotel, after Pepper reprimanded him for his little antagonization game with Richard, she informed him that if he could just wait until tomorrow- give her twenty four measly hours, she could make all of this go away. He didn’t know how, and she didn’t say, but he chose to have faith that she wasn’t just telling him what he wanted to hear just to get him to come back to the hotel without causing a scene. 

He came up with his own solution, too. It, of course, involved a lot of violence, and death, with mostly Thor’s godly-talents to be blamed, but if they fired them to crisps who the fuck was going to stop Tony then? 

But then he remembered all the juvenile recruits Fury took in, and he did  _ not  _ want the responsibility of that group of fucked up teens, so he relinquished his hold on revenge and rather took the more tactful route. Which, in translation, meant he just passed the buck off to Pepper so he didn’t grow too impatient and just blow the entire world up. 

It could happen.

It  _ would  _ happen, if he were to be left alone to his own devices.

Another wave of loneliness washed over him, and Tony sat up with a grunt. His palms were rough against his eyes, with fireworks exploding in his darkened vision as he tried to use physical force to wipe away the memories and feelings. He didn’t want to be plagued with it all this late at night, not when his mind could get carried away will his will bending beneath the pressure applied to him by SHIELD, and the Avengers, and Pepper and Morgan and, christ, at this point- the entire world. He didn’t want to have to contend with his own thoughts to grasp onto the thin tendrils of lucidity to attempt and convince himself that Peter was okay, and alive, and possibly still  _ loved  _ him despite their numerous fights. Despite Tony claiming otherwise, time after time. 

In a desperate attempt to stay grounded, Tony stood up from the bed and walked across the floor in three hush strides. His sock-clad feet gliding across the carpet with absolutely no noise, offering him a stealthiness that The Black Panther would be envious of. With trembling fingers, Tony opened up his rarely-used wallet that he’d laid to rest on his dresser, and pulled out the picture that was folded and frayed with age. The creases in the paper were thin and fragile, signaling just how many times it's been folded and unfolded, and the color around them was fading to a dull white. It was well worn- well loved, and Tony traced his finger across the swell of Peter’s rounded cheek as he slowly backed himself up and sat on the edge of his bed. Too entrapped in the photo to care about where he was heading. 

It was the same photo that led to his breakthrough. That forced his hand and made him come to the decision to ditch the alcohol and work harder towards saving Peter. Three years of it being folded and unfolded, worn thin from the friction of his pocket, yet the photo was still perfect. Tony had folded it up that first day, and has kept it in his wallet since. He pulls it out on the days he’s struggling most, and he wonders what Peter would say if he ever found it. 

Would he think Tony to be crazy? Or find comfort in the fact?

Whatever his decision, the photo was still clutched tightly to Tony’s chest that night as he drifted off to sleep, yellowed edges curved around his heart as if it were a shield. Protecting Tony even in his sleep.

_ I’m coming for you kid.  _


	9. Tony was jealous

Nat informs Peter that, in her deep scouring on the internet last night, she unearthed multiple sightings of the weird alien who they now knew to be Michael. The only reason the sightings weren’t taken seriously, she told him, was because somebody covered all tracks and evidence  _ extremely  _ well. The few crumbs that were left behind, the parcels she’d found and the videos Loki sent, were a fluke. 

_ “I don't like this,”  _ Nat had said, her mint-scented breath brushing over Peter’s ears in humid gusts as she attempted to whisper yet seem inconspicuous.  _ “It took me some time but it’s still too easy. It’s like he’s leaving us a bread trail. Prior to last year, he didn’t exist on earth- or, if he did, he was covering his tracks incredibly well. I think  _ he wants  _ to be caught, Peter.” _

It didn’t sit right with Peter, either, and the knot at the base of his spine was probable evidence of that. Evidence he didn’t want to focus on, not today. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, wishing now as he stood at the entrance, waiting for their cars to arrive, that he’d taken Bruce up on his offer and been shipped back to America while he still had the option. 

Last night, rest never came. The bags under his eyes were horrendous, but with some of Nat’s magic and makeup, he was at least presentable- his pale skin livened up with a little coverage and lots of blush. 

Luckily, his hand didn’t need the same attention or coverage because it managed to heal nicely with not so much as a tiny scar evidence of what had happened at the restaurant. 

_ Luckily.  _

The signing of the accords is being held at  New Palace, often referred to as Sanssouci Palace. It was located in the heart of Sanssouci Park in Potsdam. Given that they were staying in Berlin, they had a small drive to make before arriving at their location and, per Tony’s insistent requests, they were leaving only twenty minutes early because-

“What’s the point of being a celebrity if we can’t be late to our own shindig?”

It made more than just Peter uncomfortable with being late, though others were afraid of missing out and Peter was afraid of being the center of attention. He didn’t want every pair of eyes turned on him the moment they arrived, yet he felt no need to voice that. He planned on just hanging at the back of the cluster of superheroes, hoping their large shadows would offer him enough coverage to go unnoticed. 

The drive there, however long, wasn’t entirely unpleasant. The heater kept him warm, with the press of Wanda’s thigh against his own keeping him grounded. He stayed watching the scenery outside his fogged window. In early fall, the city was painted with numerous colors. Red and Orange a vibrancy that were mellowed out by a dulled yellow and a splash of ambient green. 

He didn’t know what to expect, coming to Germany. But this? The familiar sights of looming towers and small business’, definitely wasn’t it. Rather than feeling out of place- an outcast in a city meant for  _ celebrities,  _ he felt oddly at home. Nestled in with the bowing trees and falling leaves. 

Aside from the sparse sighting of the man today just before they left, Peter didn’t see Tony much. Then again, he has stayed locked up in his room and, without being told, he knew the omelette that had been sent up this morning by a  _ male  _ waiter was from Tony. Perhaps both an apology and peace offering? Peter didn’t feed too much thought into it, but it gave him this warm giddy feeling. 

The act had Tony written all over it- especially when Peter peaked his head out and the waiter scurried away, nodding his head the moment he reached the end of the hallway and in a flash of grey pants he saw Tony turning around and walking away. Or, at least he thinks it was Tony? The man was  _ certainly  _ wearing grey dress pants today.

Peter, himself, was dressed in a deep maroon suit with a maroon tie and maroon shirt. He knew it was often a bad idea to stack colors on top of each other, yet he didn’t want to wear something that would clash and it, surprisingly, looked  _ nice.  _ He didn’t look a thing like himself; skin appearing airbrushed and utterly flawless, the thick layer of concealer disguising his blackened under eyes. His hair was also styled cleverly, lengthy locks pulled up into a neat cowlick with each flyaway carefully glued down to his head to ensure at least a few hours with no wayward-strand developing a mind of its own.

Despite his attempt, Tony didn’t look at him in the way Peter wanted him to. Across the lobby, when they were all congregating together to prepare for their departure, Peter had felt a gaze flitter across his skin like snowflakes dusting his body. They melted the second the eyes diverted their attention, yet Tony’s attempt at remaining anonymous in his ogling session was futile because Peter caught him.

He wishes he hadn’t, because the moment Tony realized he’d been caught he looked away and, sadly, he hasn’t looked back. 

When they reunite at the entrance to the New Palace after a long trek through the park, all eleven of them, Peter feels oddly powerful for the  _ slightest  _ second- knowing that amongst them, to outsiders, he was  _ one  _ of them. An Avenger. That he belonged, even if his awkward and gangly body begged to differ- with this odd watermelon hanging off his torso. 

A low whistle caught Peter’s attention the same instant that he noticed the subtle flicker of a distant camera taking photos. It was across the large stretch of stone steps and green shrubs- just a smidge beyond the fountain, that a cluster of paparazzi had taken up residency. Peter didn’t have to narrow his eyes to see them- yet he couldn’t say the same for his oblivious teammates. “Not bad, Peter,” Clint said, eyes roaming appreciatively over Peter’s body. “You clean up nice- you just might catch Shuri’s attention.”

Peter blushed and ducked his head, pulling self consciously at his jacket to attempt and cover up more- the compliment successfully distracting him from the knowledge that tonight, those photos they were taking at this exact moment would be plastered across social media. He dug his fingernails into his palms and bit his lip, hoping to find a split in the earth so he could beg it to swallow him whole. “Maybe,” he said, releasing a curt breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The baby stirred at Peter’s discomfort, but didn’t move beyond a few flutters thankfully.

Tony stiffened next to Bruce- nobody noticing but Peter. He looked at Tony questioningly. “Are you done with the complementaries? I’d very much like to get on with it.”

Clint winked at Peter, who startled at Tony’s tone, and judged by Clint’s smugness Peter knew immediately the man had done it to intentionally irritate Tony. “Nah-” Clint said, but they all began to walk up the stairs that- holy  _ christ-  _ go on forever. “Come on, Tony. Don’t you agree our little spider-boy looks nice tonight?” The taunting was humorous to them, sure, but Peter’s reddening face surely didn’t like having all this attention directed at him  _ just  _ to get Tony riled up. Surely a man should  _ want  _ to look at his pregnant (not boyfriend, and not even ex, yet protege seems to impersonal)  _ partner-  _ Peter decided with reluctance, wisely keeping the  _ ex _ addition separate from the equation for his sanity- to admire him, not be  _ forced  _ into doing so. 

It would only do more harm than good, yet Clint wouldn’t relent, it seems, as he fell into step with Peter- intentionally allowing both Tony and Bruce to pass him, all the while giving Tony a blinding grin.

Tony didn’t turn around, however- wisely not taking the bait, and Peter swears he decided watching his feet as he walked up the stairs was solely because it was  _ interesting  _ and not because he, in truth, was ashamed at the realization that even to their friends, Tony was going to act cold and callous. Perhaps the waitress hadn’t been a fluke, and Tony  _ was _ flirting with her.

“You all look nice,” Tony said and the answer was there, but not, hidden in the dismissive, offhanded compliment that sailed into Peter’s chest like an iron fist and sufficed in rendering him breathless.

Nat snorted, oblivious to Peter’s chapped lips that quivered in exertion as he attempted to subtly inhale large quantities of oxygen without verbally doing so. The air rattled down his throat and expanded his already swollen stomach, giving the fetus minimal room to move around as Peter’s stomach tightened at the core and he surged forward a few more steps.

“Smooth diversion, Tony,” Nat said before she was hooking her arm over Peter’s shoulder and dragging him into her side, somehow missing the fine tremble glinting down his spine- her arm adding pressure to his bowing body and threatening to make him fold inwards if she dared to lay another ounce of pressure on him. “I happen to think Peter looks  _ dashing.  _ Maybe he  _ will  _ catch the Princess’ eye.” then, under her breath but still loud enough for Tony to hear- further adding fuel to the fire roaring loudly in Peter’s ears- “God knows he needs to hang around with someone his own age.”

Tony clapped, single and curt, and Peter had been so distracted with the simple task of  _ breathing  _ that he startled again, this time unsettling Nat’s arm from around his shoulders so her hand fell to rest at the base of his spine. This time, he knew she felt it. The tremble. Immediately, her eyes found the side of Peter’s face but he gave her a firm look and a shake of his head. 

_ Don’t,  _ the look said,  _ I’m fine.  _

But her responding look signaled something was lost in translation because she, concernedly, drew him closer into her side and let him lean against her the slightest bit for support as they continued to ascend the stairs. 

How comical, that she thought his reaction was from exertion when, in reality, it was from the crippling depression that came with the realization that Tony  _ was  _ flirting with that waitress last night. 

Peter was last month’s news in the article Tony had been reading and in a bout of boredom, he flipped the page to find fresher material. 

“Right, yes, we’ve established Peter’s appearance but can we not forget the intention of tonight’s event? We are all here to support him, not set him up on some blind date.”  _ Like you were with the waitress last night, _ Peter thought bitterly, wondering with the heart of a scorned lover if Tony had brought the woman back to his rooms last night even if Peter  _ did  _ listen for the slightest impression of another presence in Tony’s room. Nobody did. He didn’t smell her, either. Beyond the faintest ripple of sweet perfume clinging to Tony’s suit that lay abandoned on his chair in his room, the evidence of their mingling was non-existent. 

The evidence of Tony’s shower, that came in a breeze of soap-scented air that wafted across Peter’s face and dove straight down his unsuspecting airway, did little to ease the bile lapping like acid at the back of his throat- burning his tonsils. 

“Besides, isn’t Shuri engaged or something?” Tony asked, his following snort meant to depict humor but it was, instead, a rejected effort at remaining casual during a conversation that had every hair on Peter’s body standing on alert. It was self deprecating, almost. Like he hated himself for pointing it out, yet needed to vocally proclaim and assert the knowledge that of the two, Shuri was the only one who  _ wasn’t  _ available. 

And damn, that hurt. 

Did Tony truly believe Peter would go for Shuri- regardless of the impending alteration to her marital status? However beautiful she admittedly was, she wasn’t  _ Tony.  _ A frustrating genius who, now, stood at the top of the stairs with an ever intimidating larger-than-life shadowed aura projecting a stifled containment of self-control and mildly restrained anger as he allowed his fingers to dive through his feathered hair and ruin it’s slicked-to-perfection licks before his arms fell loosely, yet awkwardly, at his sides. 

It was Tony’s give, Peter noted wryly as he watched him run his fingers through his hair again, his tell that he was not only  _ irritated,  _ but felt  _ largely  _ out of control. He knew no matter what he said, he has made his stance clear. He couldn’t control Peter, no longer held a claim over him that he once upon a time very well would have taken advantage of and- although Peter will take his opinion and suggestions to heart, like always, he doesn’t have to  _ follow  _ them like the blind, scampering pup he once was. And that, apparently, terrified Tony. despite his  _ claims  _ of not caring anymore.

Did the man find her to be an actual threat? Truly?

The thought thrilled Peter, somehow managing to reverse the effects of the aforementioned iron fist, and in a breath that very much mirrored a tornado, Peter felt it swell in his lungs before he was expelling it into the chilling air. Breathing now, since their trip up the stairs, without much concentration.

_ Tony was jealous.  _

“I came to have fun, too,” Peter spoke up, voice shaky as his ability to breath returned to him with enough force it almost exactly mimicked the dull thud of Caps shield hitting Peter in the chest that one time, when he was all venomed out. Of course, he’d escaped. But that was besides the point. 

Only realizing now that everyone- and by everyone he means their respected group, had paused at the top of the stairs and remained respectfully silent as they watched these two idiots bicker back and forth like blind fools- not interjecting for the sake of keeping the air between Peter and Tony electrified. 

Peter cursed under his breath and scampered to the top step, abandoning Nat’s side who, silently, let him go without much protest beside the lingering touch of her hand on the small of his back. 

In a daring move, Peter lifted his eyes to find the back of Tony’s head- hurt adding fuel to his inner-turmoil but somehow allowing him to remain impassive physically. Beyond bunched eyebrows, a look that could be mistaken as focused concentration, Peter miraculously remained unfazed and nobody commented on how Tony has,  _ visibly,  _ gone as stiff as a statue. 

The sight of his unmoving stance gave Peter a startling reminder of his ravenous hunger that returned full vengeance when he remembered  _ just  _ how strong those muscles felt bunched beneath his fingers as Tony thrust into him with unrestrained vigor. 

It was a craving that couldn’t be easily squandered or dismissed, and he wasn’t sure how he has managed to do thus far- not when Tony was radiating with the impression of an impending explosion. He was always more giving on those nights, when frustration and anger won the war of self preservation and restraint. He allowed himself to give into Peter while also taking what he wanted in turn: chasing his own release as Peter spilled over the edge and with the glittering moon calling to life their very names that fell from the others lips, Peter can’t remember a time he has ever felt more alive. 

And now, as Tony’s will bowed beneath the remarks, Peter knew it wouldn’t take much more for him to finally snap. Rather he wanted him to or not was an unknown factor, even if Peter’s cock did give a delicious twitch at the thought.

Reality was a cruel reminder that chased that thought-  _ you won’t be on the receiving end of this outburst. _

Diverting his gaze from the motionless sight of Tony,  _ knowing  _ if he stared for a second longer he wouldn’t make it through those doors without causing a scene, Peter slipped his lip between his teeth and huffed through his nose. 

Apparently Tony didn’t like his idea of fun. 

“Not to burst your bubble, Pete,” Bruce said, eyes focused on the watch strapped securely around his wrist with leather biting into leather in an overlapping contention that had the extra leather curling up to rest against the vein on Bruce’s wrist- “But we are over forty minutes late. Any longer, and I can’t promise a search party won’t be sent out for us.”

However funny it may seem, the threat seemed to be entirely plausible because it kicked everyone into gear and one by one- with Tony leading them with stiff movements, they filed into the doors.

Given his current predicament, only the top button was done up on his jacket- the little piece of plastic digging into the top of his  _ very  _ prominent baby bump with the flaps pushed back and framing his stomach, Peter pulled his jacket tightly around himself and, as the tail of the group, he followed in behind them with his breath trapped between his collarbones. 

\-----

In a terrifying dawning moment when Peter realizes he’s been left alone, he notices a flock of ravenous bystanders who surround their target like a piece of meat and it makes him curious as to who could be their object of admiration. It wasn’t Tony- the man was standing by the wall of art, talking to a man who looked far too casual and comfortable leaning against the wall of literal history than sat right with Peter.

The palace was huge, and beautiful- far grander than anything he’s stepped foot in to date, yet he managed to push aside his anxiety at the knowledge he was standing in something that was nearly three  _ centuries  _ old, with artwork no doubt exceeding that timeline by vast gallops, he made his way towards the group.

Once arriving at the Palace, everyone was whisked away to do their own thing. He was sure he saw Wanda talking to a few Wakandian soldiers, and Sam was  _ wisely  _ skirting them- with all the other avengers spattered throughout the room as they socialized before the live event began. Peter’s own palms were sweaty and his heart was  _ racing,  _ but he’s managed to keep himself in check. 

“I believe it to be a blessing-” the man in the midst of the human-storm said, his accent thick and rich- twining with his words a gentleness that somehow wasn’t overpowered by the wisdom in his speech. 

Peter blanched, yet before he could retreat back to his corner where he had managed to successfully hide for the last hour, he was being called out as a hand was placed firmly on his shoulder. 

“Let me introduce you,” Tony said low, his voice tight and eyes hard as he assessed the group of people before them cautiously. “Your highness,” he said a little louder, managing to project his voice to effortlessly be heard without straining himself. 

At the new voice, the group of people fanned out and revealed T’Challa in the center, with an absolutely  _ stunning  _ woman stood to his right, and a younger looking woman stood off to his left who was studying her blue fingernails with avid attention. 

“Tony,” The man greeted him, then turned warm eyes to Peter. “And you must be Peter Parker- it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Peter’s mouth was dry- his tongue heavy and useless in his mouth and refusing to do more than stick to his teeth. He smiled shakily and moved to fold himself in half in a bow, but Tony’s hand on his shoulder stopped him and the man subtly shook his head. 

_ Right, best to not embarrass himself.  _

“The pleasure is all mine,” Peter said truthfully, cringing at how high his voice had gone. He thrust his hand forward, and T’challa gave a warm chuckle that rumbled deep in Peter’s stomach before he shook his hand. “Truly. I have heard so much about you- great things, of course. I’ve always meant to introduce myself but it seems like the opportunity isn’t always the best and-” he cut off abruptly when he realized he was rambling, his forte when he was nervous, and he took a retreated step back into the comfort zone of Tony’s proximity only to find the man had moved. 

T’Challa watched Peter with a humored curiosity, only a brief acknowledgement passing over his face at Peter’s protective hand splayed over his belly button, a natural instinct by now. “If the stories you’ve heard have come from Tony Stark, do not believe them. He wants to tarnish my reputation by making everyone believe I am good,”

At the mention of Tony, Peter took that as his granted permission to seek out the man’s shillethoue, only to startle back when he noticed Tony had never actually  _ left.  _ He’s just taken a few  _ too  _ many steps to the right, sufficiently cutting Peter’s gaze off of Shuri. 

He smiled, assuming it was intentional, and following his line of sight T’challa tsked his sister and pulled her forward, somehow managing to avert the conversation without directly pointing out Tony’s silent brooding. It was also only then that Peter realized their crowd of onlookers had dispersed, leaving only these five- no one else to witness a silent tantrum worthy of a toddler. Tony’s devotion was  _ immaculate. _

“Forgive me for my manners- this is my younger sister, Shuri, and my fiance- Nakia.” He gestured first at the beautiful woman, who Peter could now understand  _ why _ Sam thought so highly of her (he was currently gawking from the corner- acting like a silent guardian but highly obvious even if he did attempt to appear distracted every time T’Challa so much as looked in his direction) then let his fingers linger on Shuri. 

Tony was glaring a hole in the side of the young woman’s face, a feat she decided to ignore or simply didn’t see. “Tony,” she greeted him without looking, too busy currently regarding Peter with an unbridled curiosity as she let her eyes levitate over his body- specifically his baby bump. “Mr. Parker.”

For reasons unbeknownst to him, he didn’t feel uncomfortable by it. 

T’Challa, it turns out, had closely followed Peter’s career thus far and was incredibly impressed with his track record. And, although Peter was still incredibly intimidated by the king, he found out he wasn’t  _ as _ scary as he remembered on the battlefield. Through recountings of his battles, and a walk through of Wakandas history, Peter found himself to be more and more at ease in the man's presence until finally- he was  _ actually _ , genuinely laughing along to what was said. 

Nakia was lovely, too- fawned over Peter’s belly and insisted he discussed his prenatal with her to ensure his baby was getting all the necessary vitamins to nature fetal development. It was only after he told her the exact ingredients in the prenatal concoction that Bruce had cooked up for him and his unique metabolism, that she left him leave with Shuri- Tony a little more reluctant to do so as he continued to draw Peter back into the conversation even after it had long since gone stale. 

It was only when Pepper interjected and drug him away that Peter finally was pulled towards a secluded area by Shuri. 

Peter quickly realized that, although no less intimidating, Shuri was much less  _ terrifying  _ than her older brother. There was something not as… rigid, about her. A quality that made her seem normal, almost, or not exactly normal but not unrelatable. It was possibly her humor, that Peter realized was ever present as she quipped off joke after joke about all the men in the room- wisely skirting around Tony and Peter wondered how far the news of their relationship has spread- or maybe it was the lack of a proper etiquette as she slouched and popped her knuckles and, on more than one occasion, was seen giving her brother the finger from across the room. 

Whatever the reason, Peter liked her. In a friendly, almost sisterly, sort of way. Not that he didn’t notice everyone who was watching their every move like hawks- preparing to swoop in and help them close the deal so, before that could happen, they exchanged numbers and parted ways just as the signing began. 

In a proper protocol, every member of the team goes before him until finally, it’s his turn to step up to the center podium with every pair of eyes set on him, and numerous cameras. Somehow managing to  _ not  _ make a fool of himself, Peter picks up one of the offered pens between steady fingers and, with cameras flashing and blinding him- he signs the first paper. 

It’s ridiculous, how many sections there are for him to sign- how, after every page he flips, he is briefed on exactly what he is agreeing to and what protocols he must follow, but he makes it through it with minor difficulty- and he says minor because there is a very noticeable ink smudge from where he’d pressed the ink too harshly against the paper.

When he signs the last page, feeling, for some reason, like he just signed his life away- Peter looks directly into the camera and  _ smiles.  _ May and Happy were at home watching this, along with Mj and Ned. The least he could do was give them a proper photo to screenshot and, for some reason, post on every social media platform. 

There was something significant about that moment, as he set the pen down. Something that hadn’t quite registered but was looming over head, like a storm cloud awaiting acknowledgement so it could drizzle it’s rain across them. It was a knowledge, of sorts. A realization that, where he stood- the papers laid out before him; 

He was making history. This was larger than himself, than life. This was momentous and significant- a  _ large _ difference from Thanos’ planet where he had been nothing, done nothing, and was  _ nothing  _ more than a blip in the background. 

Almost immediately after, every single other Avenger joins him on the podium and in a deafening roar of claps and cheers, Peter is passed around from member to member in congratulatory hugs- save for Tony, who kind of just hangs out off to the side and mutters and offhanded- “Congrats, kid.”

He was so dizzy from all the compliments and praises that he didn’t even care to acknowledge the lack of warmth at his side where he, while signing, had wished for nothing more than Tony to be there. 

By the time they were all posing for a photo, Peter’s cheeks were flushed and he looked a little mused and flustered, yet he felt perfectly in place sandwiched in the middle of all these ridiculous superheroes. Because, now, on paper, they were  _ family.  _ To the world, Peter was now undoubtedly one of them

“It looks like we just signed the adoption papers for my baby and you’re all now, in some way, my sugar-parents.”

A mixture of laughs, snorts and chuckles arise at his joke and with a cheek splitting grin, Peter looks directly at the camera with a full heart.

No, correction.  _ They _ were making history. 

\----

The dinner, leaning much in Bruce’s favor,  _ is  _ hosted on the main floor of their hotel, in a large, modestly decorated room that was airy and open enough to not feel claustrophobic or suffocating despite all the bodies that have managed to amass there. 

Peter, dressed in the same suit with the jacket absent and left thrown carelessly over the back of his chair that had his placement card placed before it- “Peter Parker- USA (Spider-Man)” was left to mingle by himself once more as everyone else became preoccupied with entertaining suits and their, years younger, dates. Then again, Peter had no room to judge. 

The center of the room was where everyone had congregated, bodies huddled around tables and chairs, and the bar at the far end of the room that was stocked, made him wonder just how much the food part of this dinner party was courtesy of Peter’s situation. Given any other member, Tony would have called it what it was; a party, sans the dinner. 

He grumbled at this realization and snuck away from the talkative congresswoman who has, successfully, talked him to death. He’s been passed around from member to member- person to person- promised full scholarships to some schools, and well paying jobs at some high-end contending businesses. He, respectfully, declined all.

Growing bored of socializing, Peter retreats to the bar and leans heavily against the chilled countertop- shaking his head at the advancing bar tender before they could even make their way to him. 

“You should come back to Wakanda with me,” Shuri said, slinking up to his side with the grace and stealthiness a born princess of Wakanda is expected to have. She sits on the barstool Peter has rudely neglected, and angles herself to face him. Her with a slight height advantage, making it so Peter has to crane his neck slightly to peer up at her. “I could do many tests on you- your fetus. There is a lot to be discovered in your blood,  _ Peter,” _

The way she says his name makes him shiver, though not in a way that induces fear. It was a deep sorrow he’s never acknowledged, a hole that’s always pulsed at the core of his being, that ached for a sibling. And the playful note to her tone made him ache for that-  _ always.  _

His lips quirk in a semi-successful smile. “Knowledge is not always power. Some things are wise to be left unknown.”

Her eyes smiled, though her face remained the same. “Even if those things are the answers of your very existence? Do you not wonder why you are the way that you are? I could help you.”

“I don’t want help.” he whispered, smile tight. “I want people to stop looking at me and seeing my abnormalities,” 

“Being pregnant is hardly an abnormality- it is a gift, Peter. One that very well may help us break the boundaries and stigmas between male-pregnancies.”

“I am  _ not  _ the first pregnant male,” he countered, heart aching for Thor and Loki.

“No,” she agreed with an amused smirk, “but you  _ are _ the first pregnant male  _ human. _ Your DNA could genetically modify hundreds of people and give us the resource we need to enhance human dna-”

Something dawned on Peter then, hurt coercing his eyebrows to slant over his eyes and his nose to wrinkle. “You all just want my blood?”

Shuri blinked several times, stunned by the accusation, and appeared genuinely upset by it- offended, even, that Peter would suggest such a thing when she was literally sat here, pressuring him into giving her his blood when it was the one unique thing about him- something he swore to take to the grave with him. “Of course not- I am a seeker, Peter. I must find all the unanswerable questions in our galaxy, and solve them. At this moment, in this room, you are the biggest mystery. Naturally, I am drawn to you. But that doesn’t mean all I seek is your blood. I like you, Peter. Beyond your mutations, your title-  _ and  _ your pregnancy, I like the man beneath it all.”

Much like another person Peter knows. Was that it? The answer? Tony was drawn to Peter because of all the scientific mysteries his blood posed. He was simply an experiment waiting to be cracked open- and maybe that’s why Tony had disagreed with him initially signing the accords. Because it gave others access to his blood. 

Peter froze, eyes widening, when he remembered that little tidbit of information. “My dna, if given to you, could turn other people into a- into spi- into  _ me?”  _

Shuri, unaware of  _ why _ he was asking the question and rather focused on the  _ if _ of it, nodded. “It is  _ probably _ possible, though not entirely probable. There are many unknown factors with your dna. We could seclude your genetics and modify it to our liking- creating versions of you, some with all qualities liken to yours and others with the simple ability to conceive. Or,” she shrugged and waved a dismissive hand which wrongfully summoned the bartender who she kindly sent away. 

“Or?” Peter pressed, impatient. 

“Or it could do nothing. As I’ve said before, your blood has never been studied. Not even by Stark, as I’ve been made aware of.” Not that Tony hadn’t been offered the opportunity, because Peter had. Offered it to him, that is. Successfully on Thanos’ planet. 

“I-“ but before Peter could finish his sentence, his pocket was vibrating and shattering the moment. Fishing it from his pocket, he swallowed thickly at the caller ID and his eyes darted up and around the room. 

At the sudden sound disturbance, Nat- who was closer to Peter than Bruce and had been expecting it, caught his eye and nodded before she disappeared in the crowd to likely go find Bruce. “S-Sorry, I need to take this.” 

He all but ran out of the room, leaving a stunned Shuri at the bar, and when in the safety of the hallway he pressed the green button and lifted the phone to his ear. “Loki? Thank god- I was worried you weren’t going to call and after those photos you sent I-“ 

“You mean to photos of me, Peter? Surely you understand the danger of assuming, hmm?” Peter stilled at the familiar, yet unfamiliar voice, and his spine turned into a live wire as every one of his senses was set on alert. “Poor little Peter can’t even find resourceful allies.” Michael tsked into the phone. 

“Where is Loki?” 

“Oh, that puny god? I could lie and say I have him held captive somewhere- but I think the lack of thunderstorms prove that to be a lie. Let’s just say his cell phone was… improperly disposed of before his out-of-planet trip. Isn’t too hard to acquire an aliens phone- certainly not as hard as it should be,” 

Peter felt a wave of relief wash over him at the knowledge that Loki was fine, but then he realized this call wasn’t just random- and, much like a bucket of ice cold water had just been poured over him, he realized _ Morgan _ was with him. “Is Morgan fine? Where are you- how did- but you  _ knew  _ he was calling me tonight,” it wasn’t a question. “You knew-“ 

“Surely you’re not that daft, Peter. Of  _ course  _ I led you directly to me. What’s the point of playing cat and mouse if nobody intends to seek me out? Had to set you on the right path, didn’t I?” He chuckled into the phone. “And then you brought in Natasha and Bruce- tickle me pink but I did  _ not _ see that coming. I expected you to brave this yourself like a fool and walk ignorantly into your own death. However enjoyable that would be for me, this is by  _ far _ more fun.” 

Peter was directed back towards his and Nat’s conversation this morning, and how it all seemed too incredibly easy for it not to be a set up. He wished he would have listened to his gut because- of  _ course  _ it makes sense. 

The photos, the videos, the breadcrumbs. It was all for an audience. Michael wanted to be found because- because he  _ knew _ Peter would never tell Tony. He counted on the boys stubbornness to guide their events and it just so happened they Peter played perfectly into Michael’s hand. 

“Where is Morgan?” He demanded, not missing Michael’s intended skirting around that topic, “and what the fuck do you want?” Peter gritted out through clenched teeth, mildly aware of the door behind him opening, letting the low music and chatter of guests waft into the corridor before it was silenced just as quickly. 

“Oh, right. I suppose these phone calls do have a point, don’t they-“ with a sigh and what sounded like a book hitting a hard surface, the receiver became staticy before Michael was speaking directly into the phone. “She’s here, with me- all safe and snuggled in her little Spider-Man blanket. You have thirty minutes to come to me before I throw this little girl off the ledge and watch as her legs snap. Tell me- how many times do you think I can drop her before she  _ dies?”  _

Peter’s stomach dropped and suddenly, he couldn’t breathe or move. An ocean was roaring in his ears and his head was being squoze in a vice as the urge to vomit increased insurmountably. “Where?” 

Michael hummed, giving faux consideration. “The Brandenburg Gate. I’ll be waiting- and come with as many people as you’d like. The more, the merrier. But it’s best to hurry. Something tells me this itsy bitsy little blanket won't protect her  _ much _ longer,  _ Spider-Man. _ ” 

The line fell silent before Peter could demand he speak to Morgan, to ensure she was alive, and when insistent hands grabbed at his shoulder to turn him around, he found Nat’s wide eyes and grim face. She already knew. A look over her shoulder at Bruce was enough for Peter to know that he knew, too. 

_ Fuck fuck fuck fuck _ . 

Peter shallowed roughly, a cold sweat trickling down his spine and he was unable to acknowledge Nat, or Bruce, as his lungs seized and he drew closer to the dangerous terrains of a panic attack. Morgan wasn’t meant to be  _ harmed.  _

He was a fucking  _ fool.  _

Part of him assumed if he didn’t acknowledge it, nothing would happen. That if he turned a blind, ignorant eye to the evidence stacking up against the man, somehow it would just disappear and along with it, eventually Michael. 

“I need to tell Tony.” Peter choked out, heart strangling him and he was gasping desperately but he couldn’t  _ breath.  _ This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to have weeks to figure this out- to decide what to do. Not  _ days.  _ His vision grew spotty and the world titled on its axis, making him teeter to the left with Nat lunging forward to grasp his upper arm and steady him. 

That’s when they heard it- sound of someone clearing their throat. 

“Oh,” a voice said from behind him- making Nat, Peter and Bruce spin around to face the darkened end of the corridor where Tony and Shuri stood. Tony with his arms crossed, looking as pissed off as ever- threatening and dangerous. And Shuri in a slouched, deflated posture- like she was ashamed and trying to fold in on herself. “He knows.” 

“I do apologize for telling him, Peter, but you worried me running out like that.” Shuri explained. 

“Do not apologize. The only person I want speaking right now is Peter- and he has  _ three  _ seconds to tell me what the fuck is going on before I condemn this entire fucking city.” 

Something about Tony’s reaction ignited something in Peter; returning heat to his spine that electrified his entire body and with a newfound steadiness, he stalked forward and poked Tony directly in his chest- seething. 

“ _ No.  _ You do  _ not _ get to act like I didn’t bring this to your attention when I first realized something was wrong. Do  _ not  _ blame me for something you chose to be ignorant about and  _ ignore.” _

Tony looked down at him, his eyes dark, but that didn’t deter Peter’s anger. For a minute, neither said anything, and in the distance, Peter could hear the low bass of thumping music. 

“You make it sound like I  _ knew _ a maniac was living with my  _ daughter.”  _

“I tried telling you!” Peter scream, now directly in his face and the sharp pain in his stomach was warning him he was taking things too far and needed to calm down, but he refused to let Tony blame this on him. “You told me I was jealous- that I was  _ insane. Loki _ believed me before my own  _ boyfriend _ did,” 

It was the first time he’s ever called Tony that, and possibly the last- given how silly the title sounded, but it was powerful in its entirety, nonetheless, and stunned Tony into silence for a second before he took a step forward; this time  _ he  _ was crowding Peter’s space with a vicious flint in his eye. His jaw ticked. 

Still, Peter stood his ground. “You questioned my intelligence and my  _ word.  _ You underestimate me daily and now-  _ now _ that something has happened in light of all the discoveries I’ve  _ shoved _ at you, you want to play the blame game?” Peter laughed incredulously, sounding seconds away from a mental breakdown. 

He felt it, too. 

“I never once questioned your intelligence. Not  _ once _ have I ever doubted you when it mattered.” 

Peter exhaled slowly and looked away, some of the momentum draining from his body. “It mattered now, Tony- it mattered _ then _ . It always matters.” 

Tony shook his head. “You told me you had a  _ feeling,  _ Peter. How was I supposed to know it was going to lead to- _ .”  _

“You were supposed to trust me,” Peter whispered, his hands trembling at his sides as the anger receded and left him feeling thoroughly exposed- like all his nerves had just been burnt. 

Rough fingers firmly gripped Peter’s chin and forced his head back to meet Tony’s gaze. The man looked conflicted, torn between an inner-war on right and wrong and Peter couldn’t decide which side was winning . “I’ve always trusted you.” 

For some reason, he got the impression they  _ weren’t  _ talking about Michael- at least not at this second. 

“Then why do you always run?” Peter was speaking so  _ quietly  _ that nobody beyond the two that inhabited their space could hear- speaking words only meant to lap at Tony’s eardrums like soft, fluffy cotton candy brushing like silk across fingertips. 

“I-I can’t tell you.” 

“Can’t?” Peter asked, hitching his voice a little lower while also pouting his lip out a bit further- attempting to appear as injured as he possibly could. “Or won’t?” 

In a classic moment of deja-vu, Peter saw that same conflicted torture pass over Tony’s face as he weighed his options, eyes flickering across Peter’s face and honing in on his mouth before the dam inside his mind broke and the war came to a standstill. 

Tony crashed forward and with hands pulling Peter’s face towards his own, their lips met at the space in the middle and Peter whimpered into the kiss. It was an apology, a promise- an  _ admittance,  _ a proclamation. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but your child has  _ literally  _ been kidnapped,” Nat said, words  _ barely _ making it beyond the rushing water in Peter’s ears. 

Tony stilled and wrenched away from Peter, leaving the boy gasping and raw. “She’s been  _ what?” _

Apparently he didn’t know, after all. 


	10. He was your father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I say I have been so incredibly conflicted with this chapter, I am telling you the truth. I’ve written sections out here and there; obsessed over the tiniest detail and have essentially picked apart each and every sentence just to ensure everything is perfect. A large portion of this chapter has been finished, and I’ve been sitting on it- but I didn’t post it for the sake of perfection. Here it is- and rest assured, this is NOT the end. I have more in store!

Weeks ago, when he claimed to be bored and desperate for some sort of excitement; some adrenaline, he never expected for it to come in  _ this  _ form. The world is still and warm, silence a blanket of stifled tranquility masking the utter chaos hidden just beyond the veil of ignorant transparency. In a stunned sort of moment, with his vision hollowing out and pulsating along with his rabbiting heart, he watches as Tony takes a step towards Michael; towards the threat, his suit peeling back from his skin like tiny little ants marching away from the preeminent danger. It was a cocky show of an absence of fear. Tony was cooperating, doing as Michael asked, and yet- he did it in the most reckless way. 

Catching on Peter’s clavicle is an icicle, shaped in the form of a tear droplet laden with salt and sorrow and fear. In ragged breaths, the air expels from his lungs only to be greedily sucked back in as he attempts to focus beyond the shock and instead regain his bearings. 

_ He can not be weak.  _

And again, with the moment stretching on for an eternity of movements harrowed by haughtiness, Tony stills before Michael; completely bare, completely unarmed, and Peter tries to scream his warning- his pleas, desperation oozing from his pores and twining with the musky scent of earth, but to be heard over the thundering stampede of arrogance colliding with self-assurance, was impossible. 

Like that day, so many years- or, rather, a  _ single year _ on this earth- he watches as Tony’s shoulders adopt a sort of concave disposition, with the way they curve forward rather than the previous drawn back, squared display of cockiness. His eyes stutter just beyond Peter’s gaze, and he knows before even allowing his mind a moment's chance to register the events unfolding, exactly what Tony was intending to do. 

He was giving in. 

Or, rather, he was  _ sacrificing.  _

He- he can’t do that, not again. Not ever again. 

Tony-  _ this  _ Tony was durable, could easily handle being thrown around like a rag doll by even the burliest creature, possibly even survive being struck by a centralized bolt of lightning- but Michael, he was something else entirely. Something capable of atom manipulation; of molecular reconstruction with the simplest extended thought. 

With the ease that mimicked the effortless glide of Tony’s disappearing nanobots, Michael could alter the physical structure of matter and Tony… stood no chance. He knew that, Peter knew that. And in a moment of heroic diversion, he was attempting to save the day yet again. To give Peter this out, this moment of self preservation where he turned around, tucked tail and ran. 

But not today. He won’t let Tony do this, not for anyone. 

The gravel beneath his hands tremble against his skin, almost as if it were the earth wailing with a startling cry, and in a moment of that stilled composition where he can see the bomb preparing to explode, yet not hear the ticking of the timer or the screaming directions hurdled at him, the earth grants him purchase on the remnants of a wall now reduced to nothing more than rubble. 

With a step forward, trembling hands caress his tight stomach. 

_ This was it.  _

~~~

-One hour previously-

Peter’s blinks slowly, lips tingling as he forces his numb limbs to unfurl and  _ stretch.  _ Before him, Tony’s lips are flapping a million miles an hour and the set of his shoulders have changed; pulled taut like a bow string. He's no longer Tony Stark, world-famous Iron Man. He was Tony Stark,  _ father _ of the world's sweetest little girl, and his face is doing a strange sort of thing as he cycles through a number of emotions and reactions, logic chasing away his illogical impulses where they just rush in head first with guns ablazing. 

Then, he just goes carefully blank. Asserting some distance between himself and the problem so he can discover the most plausible and effective solution without adding unnecessary risks. He was reverting back into a comfortable, less dangerous mindset; one that didn’t remind him one miscalculation meant his very daughter’s life. He was becoming the fixer, something that has been absent for so long. A fire that has been dimmed, if not completely doused, since his resurrection. 

Peter just wishes it wouldn’t have taken something so.. Drastic and horrid for him to awaken. 

And still, his lips tingle as he brushes shaking fingers over them- still not entirely convinced he didn’t imagine the entire thing, a fantasy born from desperation and  _ need  _ to be touched by Tony, seen and  _ loved.  _

If he did, he’s convinced he will die.

Bruce clears his throat, straightening up suddenly as he pulls at the sleeves of his jacket so they hug snugly at his wrists once more. “Peter?” he asks, drawing the boys attention to the now crowded room. A room that has become surprisingly full in just five minutes.

They have twenty five minutes. 

Embarrassed to be caught with his fingers still brushing across his lips with a gentleness a butterfly's flapping wings was envious of, Peter quickly folds his arms and turns his attention to Bruce. “Hmm? I mean, yes?”

“What exactly did Michael say?”

Their conversation replays in his mind, and Peter cringes-  _ definitely  _ not repeating everything that was said. “He told me we have thirty minutes to meet him at  The Brandenburg Gate.”

“Before?” Tony implores, patience visibly worn thin.

“Before he-”  _ lie. God fucking damnit, LIE- “ _ before he hurts Morgan.”

Three things happen at once. Tony makes a noise that  _ shatters  _ Peter, one between a groan and a sob, Pepper lets out a  _ shrill cry  _ from her place in the corner where she’s trying to pretend she’s everything but falling apart- and Peter feels a  _ very  _ sharp pain shoot through his abdomen and spiderweb towards his spine, where it stays stubbornly for three solid seconds before dissipating, leaving him breathless but attempting to appear unfazed. 

And even in pain, he just wants to rush forward and comfort Tony, but he knows it won’t be welcomed.

Bruce turns his attention down to his phone and turns it over in his hands, prompting both Nat and Clint- who have been hovering quietly by his shoulders- to glance down at the phone and watch with obvious worry and curiousness as he types something on the small screen. “That’s not too far from here,” Bruce says, flipping his phone around to show Tony the screen. The ETA said 5 minutes, but with traffic they all knew that to be a lie. 

Then again, Tony didn’t exactly need a car- did he?

“What are we waiting for?” Clint growls, his suit jacket shed the moment he walked into this room and now- as he parts ways from Bruce, he pops the buttons off of the sleeves of his shirt and pulls them up so they bunch at his elbow. He looks on edge; pissed off and scared. “She’s five minutes away! What’s stopping us from going down there and pounding in this guys fa-”

“He’s an alien, Clint.” Natasha cuts in, brushing strands of red hair from her eyes, “From the few clips we’ve seen, his powers are superior to anything your single arrow can do- no offense. We don’t know what he’s capable of and rushing in there, on his terms, is leaving us not only vulnerable but exposed. We’ll be endangering all of us.”

“Morgan is in  _ danger,  _ Nat. Fuck our safety, she-”

“What good will you do her if you’re dead?” Pepper asks, eyes red rimmed and puffy with her voice scratchy. She steps forward, entering the light after spending the past five minutes vocally processing exactly what was going on with guilt overshadowing her every movement.  _ She  _ let him into her house,  _ she  _ trusted him.  _ She  _ blames herself, even if they all knew that was silly. “Natasha’s right. You need a plan.”

It seemed silly to argue over a plan of action when the obvious solution is standing right in front of them. “I offer myself to Michael,” Peter offers, lifting his hands at the numerous grunts and gasps- silencing those who prepared to argue. “He wants  _ me.  _ For whatever reason, I’m at the center of his little game. I was so out of reach that just grabbing me wasn’t an option.” he looks pointedly at Tony, meaning for it to be a joke but the man looks so thoroughly tortured that Peter wants to sob- it’s  _ not  _ an easy decision, but it was the right one. “Let me do thi-”

“Absolutely not!” Tony says firmly, leaving no room for argument but Peter wasn’t listening. Tony was demanding obedience but Peter… he wasn’t the type to just  _ lie  _ down and accept it. “I- There’s another way. I can’t allow you to do this.”

He locks eyes with Tony, conflicted between what to feel- how to explain this to the man without letting Tony’s ridiculous ego get in the way. He  _ didn’t own  _ Peter. “I’m doing this.”

“No.”Tony’s jaw tenses, and his eyes darken. “You’re not going to run out there and endanger your life. You’re pregnant with  _ our  _ child, Peter. You have more than just yourself to think about.”  _ Our child.  _ That’s all Peter ever wants to hear him call it. And yet, it doesn’t waver his decision. 

Peter feels his bottom lip tremble on it’s own accord, and his knees grow weak because he’s hit with the sudden impression of finality. This.. was it, for whatever reason. He knew this would be the last moment he and Tony stand this close, warmth just a breath away; the others touch just out of reach. He couldn’t explain it.. He just knows. 

His face softens, and in the creases of Tony’s face he sees the truth.  _ I can’t lose you again _ . “I will be  _ fine.  _ I’m saving your daughter, Tony. Let me give you this.”

“Peter actually has a point,” Bruce says, and for a moment all heated glares are turned from Peter and directed at the doctor. “Hey- I’m not saying let’s offer him up on a silver platter so he can sacrifice himself- but he is who Michael wants. If we play into that, we will have the leverage. Call Stephen- the second we hand over Peter, Stephen can do his magical-hoo-doo shit and whisk Peter away. It’s not that dangerous.”

“Until it is!” Tony snarls, his hand slamming against the wall but miraculously not going through it. Pepper jumps, and so does Peter- but everyone else remains stone faced. “There’s no saying what could go wrong. You’re gambling with Peter’s life and I’m not going to allow it.”

“Good thing you’re not his boss, huh?” Natasha interjects, and it’s at that second that Peter notices Clint is in the corner on the phone- a little concentration revealing it to be Stephen’s voice on the other line. She turns to Peter and smiles, encouragingly. “I believe in you, Pete. Tell me what to do and i’ll do it.”

Tony’s eyebrows raise. “I’m not his boss?” he scoffs. “And that means  _ what?  _ That i’m supposed to just let him put himself in harm's way when we can think of something else? I’m surprised you’re so willing to let him do this, Natasha.”

“I trust Peter,” Nat says with a scowl, “As I always have. You didn’t see what he went through when you were gone, Tony. The kid is  _ strong.  _ You underestimate him.”

“I underestimate him because he’s pregnant!” Tony yells, taking a step closer to Nat with the back of his hand smacking hard against his palm to enunciate his point. “He’s risking both of their lives when there’s a better alternative. We just need time.”

Peter’s hit with a sudden spell of dizziness and, caught in the midst of the argument, nobody thankfully notices him swaying on his feet before he reaches a hand out to steady himself against the wall. It’s probably from stress, he figures. 

“We don’t have time,” he gently reminds Tony, a smidge breathless as his knuckles dig into the side of his stomach, “We have less than twenty minutes as it is. Finding something better just isn’t plausible- besides, I trust Stephen. I’ll be safe, Tony.”

Tony’s eyes snap towards Peter, nostrils flaring and he knows the man wants to argue his point further- with heavy eyes settling on Peter’s stomach, but he doesn’t. They simply don’t have the time, and Tony knows that. “You will not leave my side until we make the switch and the  _ moment  _ we have Morgan Strange is to portal him out of there, am I understood?”

Relieved that he was being trusted, Peter shoots Nat a thankful grin and quickly nods. “Completely, Tony. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” the man growls as he passes Peter, and with a cool gush of wind Tony was being enveloped in his suit after giving two firm taps to the housing unit on his chest that Peter hadn’t even been aware was there. 

\-----

Approaching the bridge in the middle of the night, knowing what kind of monster lurks just beyond the shadows, was both unsettling and nerve-wracking. He’s so out of his element, in an unfamiliar city with cars rushing to and fro just behind him- creating a turbulence of wind that ruffles his hair not yet covered by his suit. 

Behind him, he can feel the gaze and support of a dozen people, all prepared and primed to rush to his aid the second it called for it. Located at his shoulder blades was a particularly heavy gaze and he knew if he turned around, just took that  _ one  _ look, he wouldn’t be able to look away. 

It’s funny, how corrosive time can be to one’s wish-list. A year ago, when he was lost to venom, he never thought he would wish to call the monster back to the present- to feel that unstable sort of power that was a reassurance of invincibility. He pushed all memories of his aside, in fact. But now, as he stands before a threat that’s certainly not the biggest they’ve ever faced, but certainly the most notable given the little girl clasped in his grasp, he wants nothing more than to feel the itch of jet-black webbing enclosing his body and cocooning him from the darkness of the world. 

A wavering step forward, towards the cement pillars towering dauntigly above him, Peter feels his stomach clench again- a force just beyond a little uncomfortable, slamming into his lower spine and it takes his absolute concentration not to stumble- to appear bold when tears were prickling his eyes. 

It reminds him of when he first woke up, after the dusting. Thanos presented him an entire world then, breathing it to life with his rancid breath. And now? Peter has the ability to  _ change  _ his path- the path,  _ Morgan’s  _ path. Nothing was set in stone. He wouldn’t have to watch her die over and over and  _ over  _ again like he had with so many others at his thirtieth birthday party in the realm of souls- when Thanos grew bored and turned Steve’s ribs into a piano and Natasha lungs into a bag-pipe meant to be played by him and him alone. 

“Ah- my little spiderling,” a familiar voice calls in the distance, appearing above Peter- crouching to peer down at the boy from his place perched on the top of the bridge, clinging to the lip. “Why don’t you come up and say hi? I have somebody who would just love another occupant at our tea-party.”

“Give them Morgan,” Peter says, voice easily projecting with a steely quality sharpening each word- making him appear and sound a lot more sure than he felt. “Then I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

Above him, Michaels’ eyes sparkle with curiousness and excitement. He claps. “Oh, goodie, the little Spider wants to  _ bargain?”  _ he tips his head back and laughs to the moon who turns a shunning shoulder to bathe them in darkness as a cloud passes overhead and obscures it’s light. “Funny little one, isn’t he?”

Peter grounds his teeth. So many people rely on him staying strong-  _ Morgan  _ relies on him. “It’s that, or they take her and you don’t get me. One word, and they charge at you. You’re powerful, there’s no arguing that- but not even you can survive the wrath of every single Avenger present.”

“If you’re so sure they’ll win, why even present me with this opportunity? Why not just… come up here and take her?”

Peter blanches, floundering for a legible reason.  _ Truth.  _ “You’ll kill her before they even take a step,” Peter rushes to say, still sounding calm and poised despite feeling neither. He was  _ so  _ out of his element and it’s another reason he, for the moment, wishes venom to be present. He would.. dull his emotions while heightening his senses and drown out Peter’s personal obligations to latch on to the single threat and neutralize it to the best of his abilities. There were no casualties, no fear, when you didn’t care.

Michael grins. “Right again, Spiderling-” the nickname, coming from his mouth, sounds  _ wrong.  _ “Tell you what- I’ll give you her,” he holds up Morgan by the neck of her jacket, dangling her over the edge and Peter’s heart lurches into his throat- panic and adrenaline kicking into overdrive as he watches her little unicorn-slipper clad feet kick back and forth frantically, “if you come up here. That simple. Hell, I’ll even let you lower her with one of your webs if that’s what your little heart desires.”

Peter turns around to look at the row of people standing behind him, blocking the road, and he’s reminded of the first time he saw them in form like this; shoulder to shoulder. They looked powerful; invincible. Truly worthy of the adorning of- “Earth’s mightiest heroes,’ title. It makes him yearn to be at their side, to wake up and make pancakes for Wanda, or coffee for Steve. It makes him crave a whole world he knows to no longer be his. 

Just out of his reach, like on Thanos’ planet. But here, on earth, crammed just into this single year- he was faced with far more opportunities than he’d ever been presented on Thanos’ planet. He’s learned, and he's grown, and he’s faced heartache and experienced love.  _ Real  _ love. He’s felt the pattering thumps of a tiny human using his intestines as a punching bag, and his biggest regret is not being able to offer his baby the world he’s always promised. Taking this step forward, towards certain doom, was solidifying their fate. Their lack of a future. 

He was sacrificing them both so Morgan could live and- it’s okay. It feels  _ fine.  _ Peter can think of no better way to go that cocooned in a body that’s nurtured you for months, held you close and whispered words of adoration and love. To never know anything but that comforting, safe warmth? 

It was how he felt when dying in Tony’s arms, and he was okay with it.

Besides, whatever happened to him- the baby still had a  _ chance.  _ That was the hope Peter was clinging to- the statistics. Even if he was killed right here, right now, they still had  _ time _ to get the fetus out of him before it suffocated to death. She would be okay, and that’s what gave Peter courage. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, and he knows they can’t hear what he says but the look Tony gives him leads him to believe the man  _ knows.  _ His faceplate is peeled back, revealing that face Peter has traced every single night he was granted the opportunity to sleep next to him; the very face he crafted to perfection, detail by agonizing detail. Tony’s is the epitome of heartache; with his eyebrows divoted down and his mouth falling open in a silent plea Peter can feel punching at his heart despite never being brought to life with the air from Tony’s lungs. 

Peter smiles, all watery and accepting, and urges Tony to feel everything he’s ever felt through the lingering gaze before he turns around and- before Tony can react, shoots a web out to the right pillar and launches himself up to Michael in the span of three seconds. 

The jarring unsteadiness that comes from standing on solid ground, to weightless in a seconds timespan, hits Peter with a bout of dizziness that makes his landing anything but graceful as he lands with a dull-thud in front of the man, movements clumsy as he fights to regain his balance with his his suit jacket flapping in the wind and framing his large, bulged stomach. 

The second he could stand without swaying, Peter immediately reaches a hand out to Morgan- silent.

The little girl is screaming, crying-  _ begging,  _ all muffled by the cloth gag shoved into her mouth and her eyes are swollen and red, tear stained. “I gotta be honest,” Michael whispers, leaning in so close Peter can feel the stubble on the man’s chin scratch across his cheek. “Didn’t think that would work.” Then, Morgan was air-born as Michael drew his arm back, effortlessly, and  _ threw  _ her as easily as one would a football, towards Tony and the others. 

A cacophony of screams meet their ears, and distracted by the dizziness and watching Morgan sail through the air- with Tony immediately flying up to catch her flailing body, Peter had no time to react to the warning shooting sharp and explosive down his spine until it was too late and Michael had a constrictive arm around Peter’s neck.

“Are you going to ask me why, Peter? There’s always a  _ why.” _

With a constricted air-way that was limiting his air supply, Peter could feel himself growing light headed. He thought of fighting back, of regaining the upper hand and flipping their positions but Michael was _strong. _Maybe not physically, but something invisible was tethering Peter’s arms to his sides and he couldn’t move them. “Thanos.” he murmurs out, desperate to stay coherent enough to figure this out while, in the distance, he can see Morgan slam into Tony’s arms. The man cradles her bridal-style, with the delicacy a gardener would pluck a flower with. 

_ It’s okay to let go now.  _

“What about him?” the man hisses in Peter’s ear, repositioning them so his front was flush to Peter’s back. 

“He was your father.”

Michael chuckles. “Wrong. It’s a shame you won’t be awake to watch me kill your friends, hmm? I wanted you to watch this but- I have plans for you, Peter. I think I’ll save you for last.”

Then, everything goes black. 

And Peter’s last thought is;  _ Strange never came.  _

\------

Waking up was disorienting. For a few seconds, Peter forgot where he was. Easily projecting fantasy into reality and convincing his mind the hard concrete beneath his cheek, now warmed by his body heat, was his bed. Through the window he can hear the clanking of the newest recruits practicing; running drills as they were prepared for the threats they were sure to face. He was cocooned in that warmth, that safety; that comfort. And for a moment, he believed himself to be dead.

If this is what death feels like, with Tony clinging to every crevice of his being, then he’s okay with that. 

But then he’s hit with the alarming scream of Natasha and that’s the first thing that shatters his fantasy- draws him back to the present where everything comes rushing back, colliding in an overwhelming rush of events that pounds at his skull. 

When he sits up, still perched at the top of the bridge, his shoe slips over the edge and a tingle down his spine warns him to move it just as a blast from Tony’s repulsor lights up the space his foot had just been, sending the white blast towards the sky where it dies off in the darkness like a shooting star. 

Peter scoots closer to the edge, not trusting himself to stand, and below him is a scene extracted straight from a war-movie based entirely off of super-humans. An excerpt from a comic-book Peter used to read as a kid. 

Somehow, during Peter’s nap, Michael’s single-man army has… multiplied. Natasha is fighting a man with red skin, reminiscent of Vision except for he has two heads and his hand seems to be a literal sledge hammer. 

With a good hit focused specifically on Nat’s mid-region, she stumbles to the side and suddenly a man thrice the aliens size, The Hulk, is picking him up by one of his heads and he’s thrown sixty feet to the side before slamming into the side of a bus that rocks at the impact, a human-sized indent left in the metal. The bus skitters across the open road and slams into a building where it settles with a groan, smoke billowing from the engine. 

Nobody was on board. 

Clint is being chased down by three Alien’s on hover-craft scooters, Sam Air-borne and trailing just behind them with Bucky and Steve fighting a group of Chiaturi while red currents of magic pulse in the space around them, focusing specifically on a human with electrical lassos who aims every snap at Wanda while somehow avoiding her every attempt at hitting him with her magic. 

They’re surrounded and out-numbered, yet they’re somehow holding their own and Peter doesn’t know how long he’s been out, or where Morgan and Pepper are, but a peak further over the edge sends him falling face-first towards the pavement. The short distance to the ground probably wouldn’t kill him, but it would arguably be pretty painful and dangerous to the baby- attempting to stop it with a web would only jar his shoulder and send him flying towards a different dangerous situation so he forces his limbs to go lax and turns mid-air so the fall is on his back and not his stomach. 

He closes his eyes and prepares for the impact. 

Only, it never comes. 

The wind is an ever-present breeze in his hair, parting each strand with the force of a thousand miles and when Peter cracks his eyes open- the stars glint and wink in the black sky, illuminated by the moon that, in the absence of Michael, offers him a comforting pale glow. 

And then, just above him, a red- fiery ring that illuminates the entire sky with the orange-flames licking from the black void, is a portal that dissipates just as quickly as Peter notices it and when he turns over to gaze down at the ground, he finds he’s a  _ lot  _ higher than he’d been just seconds before.

By a good couple hundred feet.

He’s never had anxiety flying- not when held in Tony’s arms, but without his iron-spider suit and the comfort of a parachute, he didn’t particularly enjoy it. The velocity of which he is falling is far greater than anything he’s ever faced and without the proper tensile strength preparation, he wasn’t sure his web-fluid could handle it.

They’re made to endure a lot-  _ hold  _ a lot, but at the rate he is falling at, he’s almost positive it will be too much on the webbing-fluid and, like bullet-proof glass, when hit with enough force, it’s going to shatter.

It reminds him of when he climbed on that ship, so many fucking years ago- Tony a daunting presence behind him as he yelled at him through the comms to just  _ let go.  _ To forget about the  _ wizard  _ and trust him as his oxygen supply was running out and his grip slipping as they raised in altitude. 

He just had to  _ trust.  _

It worked for him all those years ago- who is to say it won’t, now?

The only difference now, worth noting, was Tony wasn’t behind him; promising to catch him if he ever did fall.

Peter’s heart lurched and tears immediately pricked his eyes, emotions clouding his judgement and for a second- one regretful second, he wished to be back on Thanos’ planet. Where he wouldn’t even question his death; prevent it. He would openly accept it. Conflicted between the strength of his web fluid and reminiscing on Tony’s previous dedication to saving the stupid Spider-Boy’s life would never have occupied his limited time. 

That day, on Thanos’ planet, when Tony had abandoned Peter to have dinner with Pepper, and Peter lay dying beneath half of a warehouse after a turned solo-mission gone wrong, and he was at the cusp of death with darkness just out of reach; he thought about Tony. Dying in the mans arms. Turning to dust and settling into a rest for those three silent, soft seconds where everything was mute, and perfect, and warm. He thought of all the granted cuddles, and the brush of Tony’s scruff against the palm of his hand. 

He thought of the world, and prepared for his death.

Now- now that doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. 

The wind brushed his fallen tears from his eyes, dragging them back to smooth through his hair and feeding zero thought of concentration into the act, Peter allows himself to go lax one more and trusts his body over to his instincts. He knows now, the difference between his actions on Thanos’ planet and here, however, was he was going to fight. 

—-

And fight, he does.

He was naive to believe Stephen would leave him with no help; to portal him beyond the realms of reasonable heights, past the terrains of possible survival, and expect Peter to fend for himself when they all knew his competence didn’t extend to his own self preservation. Protecting himself wasn’t at the top of his list of precedent demands. 

Inches before his imminent death, with his spidey-senses drawing the entire world to a stand-still where he became hyper focused of his surroundings; of Tony’s repulsor clad feet sending sparks across the ground as he digs his feet into the asphalt to gain traction as a car reformed into a transformer looking robot slams into Tony’s chest plate repeatedly with it’s shoulder. 

Above them, hovering in a blue protective orb, was Michael; his eyes glowing a muted purple as his arms swiveled in the proper responses to the robotic creature below and apparently the fact that he could manipulate matter, or at least Peter assumes that is what’s happening, and create it into his own dispensable army would have been nice to know before. 

Remnants of cardboard boxes and exploded newspaper stands litter the ground; surrounding them in a storm of white paper and brown confetti and it was just before Peter’s body met the sidewalk, with his webbing fibers floating in the air around them like tendrils of smoke after they failed to slow him down even a little, that he was suddenly being pulled apart by time itself; every layer of his skin peeled back and inspected by the universe before he was stumbling his way through the black void and being deposited on the ground, inches from Tony. 

In a rush, reality slams back into Peter and his body is sewn together with careless attention and failing legs. “Tony,” he calls out, only to find his voice has failed him; swallowed by the hoard of screams and battle cries and before he can attempt to request the man’s attention again, to show him he’s alive, and okay, and Tony better fucking  _ survive,  _ his legs give out and he falls to the ground- struck with a sudden dizziness.

He’s never been so disoriented when traveling through time or portals, not like this- not with the heavy sensation of  _ wrong  _ clinging to his aura like a suffocating cloud of dread and sickness. Dots swim in and out of his vision, and in contention with his vibrating heart is a high pitched ringing slamming against his ear drums in a repeated effort to get Peter to just  _ focus.  _ To look at the scene around him and focus on a specific thing rather than allowing his darting eyes to zoom in each and every direction- to take in the chaos surrounding them in a visual representation of their obvious fail. 

They were so heavily outnumbered. 

And then, with tears still trekking down his cheeks like fat little reminders of his weakness- Tony steps forward.

\----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, fun little note... the chapter begins also how the chapter ends. With the same scene, just different times.
> 
> At the beginning, we experience Peter watching Michael and Tony converse. At the end, we time jump back to the beginning of the chapter- expect we travel back just a few minutes before so we get to watch the actual moment Tony advances on Michel. Fun, eh? It thought so. Anywho, I’d love to hear your thoughts! (:


End file.
